Who Let The Zombies Out? Who? Who, Doctor Who?
by EMMSM2765
Summary: Set in season 2 of Chuck and after season 4 of Doctor Who, featuring the tenth doctor. When a plague of zombies infests Earth, the Doctor must help Chuck and Sarah prevent the human race from becoming extinct.
1. Chapter 1

Who Let the Zombies Out? Who? Who, Dr Who?

Chapter 1

A cold breeze echoed through the CIA's underground chamber. Casey's feet swiftly beat against Castle's floor, as if horses' hooves were pounding against thickened steel.

"Casey, thank God!" Chuck exclaimed; the quiver of his voice accompanying the rapid pulse of his anxious heart. The cell phone, clutched in his palm, shook with the trembling motion of his quivering hand. Casey's shadow towered over him, reaching his presence at the metal desk.

"_Buy More_ is flooded. I couldn't get enough supplies." He dumped a few electronics onto the metal counter of the central room in Castle, creating a rummaging clatter. His green polo _Boy More_ shirt appeared slightly ragged from his encounter. "Have you made contact with Beckman yet?"

"No, she isn't answering our calls. No one is! I haven't been able to get hold of Ellie either." His arms hung low at his sides whilst his un-tucked _Buy More_ white collar shirt now looked tattered and torn. Its once clear, white appearance had faded, being replaced by the stain of dirt. Fighting zombies might appear fun in movies, but in real life, your clothes often pay the price. And Chuck's outfit clearly had.

Casey's domineering eyes took notice of the phone in Chuck's hand. It was astonishing that even during a zombie outbreak the nerd herder's main concern was that all his loved ones were all right. '_He must have called everyone on his contact list!'_ Casey presumed.

"What if she was attacked? Maybe something happened to her? Where would she be? Oh no. Wait, Casey, what if she turned?"

"Where's Walker?" He responded, his tone deficient in worry.

Adding contrast to the lucid resonance of fear present in Chuck's voice, Casey's seemed calm and attentive. The situation erupting around them – around the world – couldn't help but generate panic on a global scale. Though Casey had faced fear before. Heck, it came with the job. But through all the near-death circumstances he overcame; through all the bullets fired his way, he had learned a valuable lesson – you are not going to survive when you let fear cloud your brain.

"Sarah? She's locking the _Orange Orange_."

He frowned with concern. "Still? What's taking her so long?"

* * *

Hidden behind the serving counter of the frozen yoghurt store, Sarah's body squatted below, attempting to keep the sound of the irregular beat of her heart to a minimum. Her gun lay clutched in her hands as her thumb continually brushed against its surface, anxious in her predicament.

Like a bull fighter entering into a bull's arena, the _Orange Orange_ was just looking for trouble. Its entrance remained unlocked and open, paving the way for any zombies to enter. Luckily for her, the store remained vacant, except for her privy presence behind the counter. That, at least, remained consistent. Even after death, no one seemed to desire the store's foul frozen yoghurt; and thus preferred to remain outside its quarters.

Sarah's mission was to lock the store and turn off the lights without being seen by any zombies. Though unlike _Buy More_, the _Orange Orange_ never acquired a sufficient locking system. Regardless of whether she managed to lock the entrance or not; if some zombie saw her presence, they would get their gang together, reach the store and eventually make it through, leaving her and Castle not necessarily safe. This would be simple enough, if a single zombie wasn't strolling back and forth right outside the entrance! Its wandering eyes and arrhythmic footsteps caught her eye whenever she decided to take a peek from behind the counter. It limped back and forth, gently promenading left then sauntering right; as though it were a security guard, protecting the area from any intruders. Ironically, if it did enter, _it_ would acquire the title of 'intruder'.

_Come on, Sarah. Attack._

Thoughts charged through her frantic brain, contemplating the best choice of action.

_I am a spy. I kill people on a regular basis. Why am I so resistant to kill a zombie?_

With heavy breathing she felt anxiety overpower her. She had never killed a zombie before. Yes, she had faced them, but never killed one. Earlier that day, during their frantic flee towards Castle, zombies fell along their path. They shot at them, though no bullets seemed to successfully finish the job. That day had been her first encounter. It would serve as everyone's first encounter. The Plague of the 21st Century.

These 'diseased monsters' weren't like normal humans. If you shot a person in the leg, they would fall down and be left unable to run away. Though with these crazed zombies, if you shot them in the leg, they would continue to hobble towards you, never giving up on their need to feed.

Sarah felt slightly jarred by this realisation; acknowledging that her best option would be to take the kill shot – in the head. After all, that was what Chuck kept screaming as they ran for safety, "In the head. The movies always shoot them in the head!" However, this was never proven to succeed. During their charge towards Castle, they hadn't been assured of its success. Their eyes hadn't concentrated on who they were shooting at, but more on how to triumphantly escape. This failure to recall who remained a threat and who had been discarded helped spur uncertainty in her mind; contributing to the remnant nerves that shot through her body. Nevertheless, she felt burdened by the idea of killing one, of cutting its life short. Perhaps it was the notion that the zombie used to be human. Well, a _normal_ human. An _innocent_. Ordinarily, she was more accustomed to assassinating criminals; people who lack regret for their heinous crimes and, if not detained, would continue to commit such atrocities. But this zombie, and the rest of its kind, was a person who received the short end of the stick. Bad luck fell along their path and along with that came the 'curse of the bite'. It seemed quite repugnant and ominous in essence. Like a twisted, medieval game of loser's choice – once bitten or clawed you obtain the option of either a) death or b) the transformation into zombie form. It was a tough choice to face and Sarah felt that no innocent should have to endure such a punishment.

And now here she was, presented with the option of sending a bullet through its brain or patiently waiting for the lethal beast to eventually depart. The second option remained more appealing though. For if she did release the trigger, its ensuing sinister thunder would ripple through the street, alluring more zombies towards her territory. That was an option she would rather disregard.

Sarah's eyes glared down at the _Orange Orange_ employee uniform her body fit close to.

_Great. A Zombie outbreak in __this__ outfit! This isn't even my real job and I never have time to change!?_

The orange hairband, preventing her hair from falling into her eyes, matched the luminous orange of her close-fitting tank top and her three-quarter, white jeans tightly clutched her calves. It was such a repellent combination – orange and white.

She slowly rotated her head round the corner, checking up on the presence of her zombie rival.

_Dammit. Why won't he leave?_

Releasing an exasperated puff, she gently dropped the weight of her head against the counter, allowing the light feel of her blonde hair to come into contact with the serving table's delicate, smooth texture. Her leg extended forward, resulting in her tautened muscles feeling the consequence of maintaining the same position for too long. As her leg stretched out, the inauspicious squeak of her orange converse sneaker gliding over the floor's surface announced the screeching halt of her heartbeat. Her blood sizzled; as though she were a student caught for cheating and now felt the pangs of embarrassment sweep over her.

Surely he heard that.

Her thought-struck mind spun with opposing assumptions – _That was loud. He heard that. No, he couldn't have. Is he coming? No? I should attack. Wait. Don't. What if he didn't hear? _

Feeling as though she dug her own grave, she remained indecisive on how to remove herself from this sunken pit. However, she shovelled aside her daunting insecurity of incertitude and hoisted herself up from her incommodious position behind the counter, turning to face the threat.

_Oh. Shit. _

Its consistent limp seized and its dead eyes fell upon hers. The zombie hadn't noticed her unfortunate, high-pitched screech. But now it had taken notice of _her_.

Silence befell the room. Her frantic mind now lay void and vacant. Sluggish in movement, one foot slowly followed after the other, steadily nearing the sound of her racing heart. Appearing to be a fresh victim, his white training shoes still maintained their angelic colour; barely darkened by the stain of blood.

He was only a kid. The youthful complexion of his features displayed the fact that he hadn't surpassed the age of sixteen. His white t-shirt marked the battle he encountered, carrying the cascade of blood from his wounds. He struggled to keep his head upright, like a baby whose neck is too weak to sustain the weight of its head. Regardless, the impending eyes of Sarah's enemy held hold of her defensive gaze. As the proximity between him and the CIA spy diminished, the colossal bite situated on his left shoulder grew in size. The volume of his groans intensified. With every step, his threatening teeth and intimidating nails drew close to her smooth, perky flesh. His shadow neared the counter. Her feet cautiously tread backwards. He drew closer. The threat amplified. Her back clung against the cold touch of the wall.

Eventually, she shattered her prolonged stare and glanced down at her gun, recalling its purpose. She returned her eyes to the rabid ones before her and lifted her weapon.

"Sorry."

_Bang._

* * *

Casey's vigorous feet trudged towards a computer. His fingers frenetically tapped against the keyboard.

"You don't think she is hurt, do you? Would something have happened to her?" Chuck questioned, afraid to hearken the impending sound of Casey's response.

"Walker might have made contact with a herd." With force, his finger pressed down on the keyboard's 'Enter' button, attempting to tune in to the _Orange Orange_ security camera to make visible the action that occurred upstairs.

"A _herd_?"

He ignored Chuck's reply. A discouraging grunt vibrated his vocal cords in response to the information the computer revealed. "Hm." The resonance of his voice signalled the menacing threat of peril. Congealed by the stunning conquer of fear, Chuck froze in his stance; resulting in the sound of scraping chuckies to abruptly come to a halt.

"What? What is it?" he quaked.

"_Orange Orange_'s security cameras are down."

"What does that mean? What has happened to Sarah?"

"Don't know."

Casey's feet stomped towards the room of weaponry, acquiring more guns and forms of defence. Chuck's darting eyes focussed on the computer Casey's hands had frenetically tapped. With a flicker, a lightning bolt struck his head, providing him with an idea.

The sound of chuckies scraping against the floor resumed as he charged towards the computer. Perspiration dripped from his forehead, sinking deeply between the hollow spaces of the keyboard. The sweat from the tip of his fingers smeared the buttons' surface.

Frown lines creased between Casey's eyebrows. "Chuck. What are you doing?" A portion of threat sullied the tone of his voice.

"Checking in on _Buy More_. If just _Orange Orange_'s security cameras are down then something has gone seriously wrong."

With bulging eyelids, Casey's countenance became clouded with an austere stern. "Don't! Chuck!"

But his warning arrived late. Chuck's finger had slammed down on 'Enter' and the view of the _Buy More_ store overcast the screen.

Well, _these_ cameras seemed to be working.

A wounding bang pounded against his heart as his eyes absorbed the picture displayed before him. The store appeared to be overturned – boxes of supplies showered the floor and zombies filled every corner, walking like drunkards returning from a New Year's party. Blood smirched the walls, stained the clothing and skin of the cannibals, and drenched the floor in a pool of red gore. The state of _Buy More_ dampened the air in sorrow's gloom, serving as a reminder of what human life would now become. The store was dire and darkened, allowing the only gleam of light to originate from its wide open doors.

"We should lock the store," Chuck muttered. "We need the _Buy More_. We need its supplies. They will..."His heart stopped. An icy breeze trickled fear up his spine.

_Dead bodies_.

_Everywhere_.

Rotting, remaining flesh burned his eyes with dread's acidic touch. "...come in handy. Casey, you went to collect some things from _Buy More_. Who was with you in the store?"

"A few employees and customers."

His heart restored its rapid patter. "Which employees specifically?"

"Well bozo one and bozo two managed to sneak out. Cowards. Anna wasn't there. Busy on an instalment. And Big Mike is...humph...fishing."

He gulped. "And Morgan?"

Silence escaped Casey's lips. He ignored Chuck's frantic queries and returned his attention to his weaponry, deciding on the best form of attack. Only _Orange Orange_'s security cameras failed to work. That information seemed suspicious and he knew he should tread upstairs to inspect the scene.

"I have been calling him all day and he never picked up. Casey, where's Morgan?"

He raised his blank, emotionless eyes to Chuck's, whose carried the explicit expression of horror. "He's in the _Buy More_, Chuck."

The asset's body froze up. Sweat soaked his forehead, causing damp streams to cataract down the side of his face. His constant quiver now morphed into a raged panic. "You left Morgan in the _Buy More_!?"

Casey's eyes fell back to his weaponry, providing Chuck with the cold shoulder. "There is nothing I can do." His intention was icy and gelid.

"No, Casey, you don't understand. Morgan is my best friend. You can't just leave him there!"

"No, _you_ can't just leave him there. I can."

"He will die, Casey!"

"Not my problem."

The asset charged towards him. His stomping feet aggressively stepped forward. "Then make it your problem."

Casey flung his face towards Chuck, revealing the truculent gaze of his threatening eyes. His robust form towered over the skinny Nerd Herd employee, accentuating his menacing stature. Within two stodgy footsteps, he reached the frightened boy.

"And what do you suppose I do? Huh? Bring him down to Castle? Reveal our secret base? Blow our covers? I can't do that, Chuck," he yelled, "I'll be going against orders."

"Forget orders, Casey. Just this once," he gulped. "The CIA has bigger things to worry about right now and not to mention, we need to clear that store. The supplies you collected are not enough. But most importantly, my best friend is out there and there is no way I am just going to sit back and watch him die."

Casey released his stringent gaze, turning away and mumbling, "If he hasn't already," under his breath.

The hope for his assistance seemed to gently slip away. "Are you not willing to help me?" he exhorted. No response.

Chuck acknowledged that it was time to take action. If Casey wasn't going to do the right thing then it was time that he did. His hand grabbed hold of a gun, situated in the room of weaponry, drawing Casey's attention towards him. Once his muscular body turned to face him, Bartowski lifted his gun.

"What do you think you are doing?" the dominant spy replied; his tone smeared with degradation.

"Saving my best friend." The gun he possessed quacked from the shaking of his unsteady hand.

"Don't be a hero, Chuck," he warned, treading closer.

"Don't threaten me, Casey. I will shoot."

"Humph. Is that so?"

Lacking fear from that threat, he rapidly reached Chuck's presence and tugged away the gun, removing it from the human Intersect's quivering grasp. In a single swift move, he pushed the Nerd Herder against the wall, with his arm roughly jammed against his neck.

Chuck gasped for air. "Casey ... You're hur – you're hurting me ..."

"Do you seriously think you can just threaten me and get away with it? You will be zombie-meat in an instant out there and Beckman gave me strict orders to keep you out of harm's way. Right now, American soldiers are fighting for the safety of the world and you're more worried about your best friend? That's not noble, it's pathetic. Instead of fighting for our country I am stuck here looking after your whiny ass. I'm following my orders. So follow yours. Stay put."

He released his strengthened hold, providing Chuck with the opportunity to safely breathe. He inhaled large portions of fresh air, trying to combat the rising carbon dioxide present in his lungs.

"Casey ..." he croaked, gently stroking the red area of his neck, "it's _Morgan_."

Acknowledging the fear of losing a best friend, Casey's gaze held hold of Chuck's downtrodden eyes. He understood that this human Intersect would stop at nothing to ensure Morgan's safety. He couldn't risk the asset escaping and transforming into a violent, inhumane beast. Besides, it would just be a few zombies. He could handle that many, couldn't he? No biggie, right? Not to mention, the store _would_ come in handy. They needed _Buy More_'s products. And barring the store would also prevent any chances of a zombie reaching Castle. Despite Casey's stodgy resistance, all directions pointed towards rescuing the bearded fella as being the better option. Though, there was one slight problem.

Pressure formed from the clenching of his fists. "They don't die, Chuck," he remarked, his voice cased with concern. "The zombies; can't kill them."

"You can."

He puffed. "You know your friend's probably already turne–"

"No, he hasn't!"

An infuriated sigh blew through his nostrils and eventually he decided to give in.

"Fine."

Chuck's heart skipped a beat. A sense of relief shone through his once clouded sky.

"But I am only doing this because I agree. We need the _Buy More_." A smile prominently shrouded Chuck's face, illuminating it up with warmth. "And I guess it gives me an excuse to use my new gun."

"See. It's a win-win!"

Before he could reject, Chuck flung his arms around him and embraced him with a hug. "Thank you, Casey, thank you. Thank you."

"Don't! Bartowski, Get off."

* * *

Silence echoed through the hallways of the underground chamber. Chuck remained alone with only his presence left to accompany him. His hazel eyes glared upon the computer's monitor, watching Casey's mission in _Buy More_ unfold.

The jarring noise of musical chant broke the silence and blurred Chuck's ears, awakening his mind from his deepened thoughts. He extracted his cell phone from his pocket and felt overwhelmed the moment his eyes caught hold of the caller's name.

"Ellie!? Ellie, oh my gosh. I was so worried. Thank God you haven't been hurt. Where are you?"

"I am home. Chuck, talk to me. What happened? You left me over a dozen missed calls."

"Wait? You don't know what is going on?"

"What? What is going on?"

"Okay. That's good. It means the outbreak hasn't reached your area yet. Ellie, you need to listen to me very carefully. I need you to lock your doors, close your blinds, turn off your lights and be very silent."

"Chuck, what happened? You are scaring me."

"I know, Ellie," his voice trembled, "but I can't explain to you over the phone .You won't believe me. You just need to trust me. Where's Awesome?"

"Uh, Devon is still at the hospital. His shift ends in a couple of hours." Harkening that inconvenient information, Chuck's eyes drastically shut with anxiety. Captain Awesome being at work would explain why he wasn't answering his calls. Though he still lacked knowledge as to whether the outbreak had spread to Westside Medical yet. Not to mention, Devon's trip home would not be a very safe one. "What is going on, Chuck?" she continued, "I am starting to panic."

"Ellie, please just trust me."

Resistance sprouted from within. He knew he would have to inform her of the world's current predicament. But to notify someone that walking beside danger on a daily basis would now become the new normal wasn't the easiest information to provide someone with; especially when that someone happens to be your sister. Nevertheless, he couldn't keep her in the dark for too long.

"Just please do everything that I told you. Make sure your house is completely secure and be very, very quiet. And if you get hold of Devon, tell him to do the same thing. I am going to come for you, okay. Wait for me."

The sound of fear quaked through her voice. "Chuck, what is go–"

"Trust me, Ellie."

Her voice cracked. "I do, Chuck. I'm jus–"

"Ellie."

"Yes?"

"Just remember whatever happens, I love you."

* * *

He tightened the bulletproof vest round his body; acknowledging that it may appear pointless when fighting zombies, though he wore it regardless. As he reached for the tranquiliser gun, present on the central metal desk of Castle, the steel entrance into the underground base abruptly opened. It released a vacuum-like sound, causing Chuck's heart to momentarily lapse. He turned to face the entrance at the top of the stairway.

"Chuck, what are you doing?" The newcomer asked, cautiously running down the steps. She tucked her gun beneath her outfit.

His eyes widened with astonished amiability. "_Sarah_!"

Charging towards her, he met her presence at the bottom of the stairs. Startled, Chuck surprised her with an unforeseen hug as he wrapped his arms around her, tightly holding her body close to his. His slender fingers clung to the back of her orange tank-top. "I was so worried. I thought something happened to you."

She smiled with sincerity and embraced the hug, sliding her hands up his back. Her flabbergast eyes seemed to capture the look of frightened dismay.

"I'm okay, Chuck."

As though an overbearing burden weighed over her, her eyes shut closed with relief. Comforted by his presence, she released a sigh drowned in contentment. Finally, she was free from the heinous zombie's derision.

He pulled away. "Are you sure? Your body feels so cold. It's like you experienced a big scare."

"I'm fine."

His mind clouded with concern. Her reply was so defensive.

"Where's Casey?"

"I sent him on an errand..." He gulped, hastily changing the topic of discussion. "Anyway, um, the _Orange Orange_'s surveillance cameras aren't working."

She diverted the subject, having her eyes fall upon his body armour and choice of weapon. "Where are you planning on going?"

He glanced down, eying his attire. The bulletproof vest and tranquiliser gun definitely screamed 'entering into battle', though the expression shrouding Sarah's face displayed her confusion as to why.

"Oh. Okay, yes. Sarah, I know what you are thinking and before you say no, please hear me out."

Her eyes glared into his, fearing that he planned to engage in an activity that would place him in harm's way.

"My sister and brother-in-law are out there without any help. They are all alone. I have got to find them and bring them back here."

Silence.

Regardless of whether she approved or not, he would still attempt to risk his life to save his family. However, a few seconds passed without a single word being uttered through her lips. Even if he didn't require her consent, he still preferred to have it.

"Sarah?"

She raised her eyebrow.

"No."

Her shoulder brushed passed his, augmenting the distance between them. Disappointed, the clarity of his frustration became less transparent. He turned to face her with her back still to his.

"Sarah, I'm not asking for your approval. Sorry, but I have to go through with this, regardless of whether you disagree with it."

"No, Chuck," her irritable eyes shot him a worried look of admonishment, "you aren't."

"Sarah –"

"This isn't a negotiation, Chuck. You are not leaving Castle."

A shroud of worry stained his features. "Sarah, this is my family we are talking about, okay. And in a family people watch out for each other. Protect each other. It's what we do. I know that the word 'family' is something you struggle to comprehend, but if I don't help them then Ellie and Devon will die. And I can't let that happen." Annoyance and fear was clearly audible in his voice. She bit her inner gums; her heart experiencing the sharp pangs from his remark. Even still, she refused to show it. "Sorry. I – I didn't mean–"

Her feet rapidly neared him. "Bringing them to Castle will expose our covers, Chuck; and then you will have put their lives in even more danger."

"They already _are_ in danger!"

"Trying to reach them will be suicide. It would be safer if everyone stayed indoors."

"And then Echo Park and the Hospital get overrun just like _Buy More_? They aren't safe then."

Like a beggar, his eyes held the look of desperation, pleading for her to understand. It was his _sister_. His sister's _husband_. How could he possibly just let them fight the monsters on their own? He had the CIA at his fingertips. With such an advantage, how could he deny them that refuge?

Without a word spoken, his expression revealed his plea. However, Sarah knew she couldn't take a chance with the asset's life. Although overcome with concern, her frustrated expression revealed her resistance in letting him go.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she consoled. "The answer is no."

He clenched his jaw, feeling vex sprout within. "Fine."

As she turned away, he rotated and departed up the stairway, gripping his tranquiliser gun tightly in his palm. The fast patter of his hasty feet drew her attention towards his attempted escape; ensuing the consuming look of dread to suck the colour from her cheeks.

"No! _Chuck_!"

Promptly, she charged towards him, eventually catching a tautened grip on the back of his bulletproof vest. She turned him round to face her, leaving his gobsmacked expression noticeable. "No, Chuck. Listen to me. I can't let you leave. It is not safe out there."

"Exactly!"

"Chuck, my main priority is to ensure your safety," she fleetly paced, "But if you charge out those doors I can't promise that I will be able to protect you."

"Then don't make that promise, Sarah."

He tried to free himself from her solid clutch by making a move towards the exit. However, she briskly grabbed hold of his wrist and pushed him against the cold, hard wall; leaving him unable to escape her iron grip.

"Stop being so stubborn! How do you even plan on defending yourself? With a tranq. gun? Do you think a tranquiliser gun is going to stop a zombie?"

"Perhaps."

"No, it won't. You will die, Chuck," she shuddered, "And I don't want to let that happen."

The frantic quiver of her voice gnawed away at his frenzied heart.

_What was she implying?_

Thumping against his rib cage, his throbbing heartbeat echoed through the silent, secret base. Whiffs of air escaped her lungs and with every exhale, she appeared short of breath. Her brows continued to furrow as the consistent look of concern and frazzled exhaustion radiated through her eyes.

"What are you saying, Sarah?"

Finally she came to realise – they were alone. In Castle.

He stared. _She_ stared. Their persistent gaze into the windows of each others' soul failed to depart. Darting from one eye to the next (curious as to what the other's next plan of action would be), they remained glued in their stances for what seemed like an eternity; muted in the gentle breeze of the heavy, compressed air between them.

Her eyes lowered, falling upon Chuck's lips. Its peachy, delicate appearance drew her attention, causing he heart to tenderly pulsate.

_What was she thinking?_

His thumping heart continued to beat, simultaneous to hers. Removing her gaze from his lips, her eyes returned to his, witnessing his gaping stare.

"Sarah?–"

_Vworrp. Vworrp._

The unannounced sound of an alien spaceship landing in Castle fractured their prolonged eye-contact. Sarah nimbly hurled her eyes towards the location of the sound, freeing her hold on Chuck. Out of nowhere, an object slowly materialised. Sarah's fingers gradually curled over the gun that lay tucked beneath her shirt behind her.

Chuck frowned. "Is that a ... police box?"

* * *

Wrapped tightly in his palm, the Doctor's hand pushed down on a lever, parking the Tardis in position. His head lowered in self-pity. Everyone he had ever loved had somewhere else they needed to be. Or would rather be. He was cursed by the fate of loneliness and forced to lose all those that ever touched his hearts. Desolation always waited anxiously at the finish line of each journey he shared. It was the destiny of the Time Lords – cursed by time itself.

Having left his 'family' behind, he had hoped Atlantis would feed his crave for adventure and instil a sense of ecstatic euphoria inside the gaping hole that came to represent his life. Besides, Atlantis had provided him with many a mirthful memory from his past visit and he anticipated that it would supply him with the same outcome now.

Like the longer version of Superman's cape, his brown and faded ankle-length trench coat blew behind him as he charged towards the front door of the Tardis, hauling it open. His red sneakers squeaked upon the foreign floor below, dragging him into an affluent world that had been stained with fear, thrill and adventure.

* * *

The astonishing appearance of an unforeseen intruder startled both Chuck and Sarah's eyes. Swiftly, she lifted her gun, ominously pointing it at his heart – the left one.

The Doctor failed to immediately notice their presence and rather chose to absorb the intricacies of his current location. He pouted. "Ah, Atlantis! A little different from what I remember." The caliginous illumination of Castle dimmed the tips of the Doctor's spiked, brown hair and darkened the light blue tint of his suit into a subdued shade of blackened blue. His eyes wandered upwards, noticing the failing light bulbs above. "Ah, brilliant. They even discovered electric – oh hello."

Chuck and Sarah's presence had been detected, causing her to frown with perplexity. "You're _British_?"

"_Americans_?"

A wave of apprehension consumed her and her hands tautened round the gun. "Who are you?"

He observed the weapon in her hand, the technologically advanced state of the underground base, and the obscure outfits of the strangers standing before him; forcing him to come to realise that he, in fact, did not arrive at the destination he had hoped for. Bummer.

"So I am assuming this isn't Atlantis then."

"Where did you come from?" she ferociously inquired, her glare strengthening into a ball of hostility.

"Oh. Well from my Tardis," he pointed.

Chuck looked bewildered. "Um, sorry. I didn't quite catch that. Your what?"

The nerdy appearance of the _Buy More_ employee seemed oddly conversant to the Doctor. There was something extremely familiar about his looks. It was as though he had seen him before but failed to recall when and where. The logistics seemed inconclusive.

"My Tardis," he replied. "Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. T.A.R.D.I.S. Tardis. Basically, it's my spaceship. My really, really cool spaceship."

Chuck's mind struggled to register the words that sprouted through the Doctor's lips. "But that says police box?"

"Exactly!" With a look of caution and authority, his eyes fell upon the wary glare of Sarah. "Would you mind not pointing your gun in my face?"

Hibernating his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, the chilly air of Castle had left his skinny fingers numbly cold.

She clicked the safety switch off of her gun. "Who are you?"

"_Me_? Oh, yes. We haven't been introduced. Hello. I'm the Doctor."

Chuck's face morphed into a constipated expression:

_Voice recognition: The Doctor. _

_Time Lord. Tardis. Time Vortex. Sonic Screwdriver. Regeneration. Two hearts._

_Rose Tyler. Donna Noble. Captain Jack. Martha Jones. Sarah Jane Smith. K-9. Harriet Jones._

_Sycorax. Daleks. Slitheens. Plastic Mannequins. Cybermen._

Through the Doctor himself announcing his infamous name, all information that the CIA had documented on him flashed through Chuck's mind, helping him grasp a full understanding of the peculiar man and woman that appeared, out of nowhere, before his eyes.

"The _Doctor_?" Sarah replied. "What is that? Is that code?"

He grinned with enthrallment. "Ah brilliant. You _must_ be secret spies! Gotta love 'em. Always thinking in codes, assuming everyone is a threat. They just adore all their guns, secret bases and _oh so_ menacing glares. Which yours is spot on by the way. Governments! So entertaining."

She disregarded his ramble and drew her thoughts back to the matter at hand. "Who gave you authorisation to be here?"

He reached for the psychic paper located in the inside pocket of his suit. Though, this action alarmed her, believing his hand was about to extract a weapon. "Oh calm down, it's just my identification," he assured, handing her the paper. She glanced down at it, her cautious expression never fading.

"This is blank," she announced, handing it back to him. "If you're a doctor then prove it."

Muddled by the paper's cheap trick's failure to work, he repeatedly glanced back and forth trying to cogitate why. "_What!_? _Blank_? You can't see anything? Nothing? Oh, now _that_ is fascinating."

Chuck attempted to interrupt the interrogation in order to inform Sarah of his flash. Though, she continuously disregarded the sound of his pleading voice.

"If you are a doctor, why would anyone send you here? Did someone report a scratch? A bite?" she continued.

The dented shape of the Doctor's brows accentuated the questioning expression of his eyes. "Why …? Is something strange biting people?"

Chuck attempted once more. "Sarah! Listen to me–"

Frustrated, her head promptly darted in his direction. "What?"

The silent room was soon accompanied by his finger's rhythmic tap against his forehead. His lips mouthed the words, "I flashed", forcing her alarmed eyes to widen. Although inaudible, the motion of his lips was simple to deduce and the Doctor easily understood the muted message sent to Agent Walker. Though, the context of the word 'flashed' seemed far too familiar. _'I flashed.' _Where had he heard that expression before?

Sarah pulled Chuck aside and out of the Doctor's earshot.

"He is telling the truth, Sarah."

"That can't be possible. He called his mode of transport a spaceship." Gently, the palm of her hand softly stroked the back of her neck.

"Yeah … um … he's an alien."

She stared at him disparagingly. "What?"

"Yeah, he is pretty much all alien. Specifically a Time Lord. But that doesn't matter, Sarah, because he is the good guy. Among numerous occasions he has helped agencies such as MI6 stop other alien invasions form destroying our planet. I think it is safe to assume that he regards Earth as his friend. He's like Clark Kent!"

"Clark Kent? That's his name?"

"Ha-ha, what? No," Chuck tittered. "That's superm – anyway, the point is we have got to trust him. Right now, a zombie apocalypse is happening outside that door and he is our only hope in surviving it. His Tardis even has the ability to teleport me to Ellie and Devon where I can safely bring them back here. And I know what you are thinking, Sarah, but I have to protect my family. At all costs. He is the only one who can ensure their safety. So please don't try and stop me, Sarah. They need–"

"Okay."

His thoughts came to a screeching halt. "Wait what?" That wasn't the response he anticipated.

"Chuck, I believe you. If zombies are real then why can't aliens. And yes, I agree. Your family needs protection."

Lines creased between his furrowed eyebrows. "Really …? Do you mean that?"

She amusedly grinned.

"Stop, stop, stop. Everyone keep very still. What's that noise?" The Doctor announced, forcing Chuck and Sarah's intricate conversation to abruptly cease.

"What's what?"

"That noise! It's like a … a constant groan."

"I don't hear anything," Chuck announced with confusion.

Sarah's eyes tentatively glanced upwards, drawing attention towards the fact that she heard the undefined noise too.

_The zombies. The sound is coming from the … 'Buy More'? _

Baffled, Chuck took notice of her peculiar reaction. "Sarah, what is it? What is he hearing?"

A wary cloud overshadowed her. "Casey managed to lock up _Buy More_, right? That's why you were able to send him on that errand?"

He gulped, plastering dread across her face.

"Chuck … Please tell me there are no more zombies in the store."

"Um, not exactly..."

Her jaw clenched. "Where is Casey?"

"Um … In the store…"

"What!?"

"Sarah, he left Morgan in the _Buy More_. Just left him there. To die! I couldn't plainly sit back knowing my best friend was about to get killed by a hoard of zombies."

"Chuck, this is exactly why I wouldn't let you leave earlier. Your friends and family are not our priority! You are. You have put Casey's life in danger because your friend is too immature to face zombies on his own."

"Come on, Sarah, it's Casey. I think he is doing just fine."

"That's not the point, Chuck. Now he isn't here to do his job – which is to protect _you_!"

"Everyone just shut up," the Doctor tried to interrupt. However they were too engrossed in their argument to adhere to his command.

"Well then he shouldn't have left Morgan there in the first place," Chuck continued.

"If Morgan falls behind then it is _his_ responsibility to catch up. Casey is not his bodyguard."

"Casey is everyone's bodyguard!"

"You don't even know if Morgan is still alive. What if he gets bitten?"

"He won't."

"You don't _know _that."

"I am not going to just assume the worst, Sarah. He is my _best friend_."

"I _know_ he's your best friend, Chuck! You keep saying so!"

"That's because it's true."

"Chuck, listen to me. That noise–"

"_What_ noise? There is no _noise_! Only you and the Doctor can hear it."

Fed up, the Doctor finally snapped. "Oh will you both just _**keep quiet**_!" His vociferous scream drew their attention towards him. Silence echoed through the underground base. "Much better. Thank you."

He charged towards a wall and pressed his ear against it, trying to listen intently. The groaning sound of walking zombies reverberated through the corridors, through the roof, through the walls. His mind continued to pinpoint the sound's origin – _what was creating that noise? _

The Doctor's hand repeatedly jammed against his forehead, attempting to knock his brain into action. "Come on. Think. Think. Where have you heard that sound before?"

"What _sound_!? I can't hear anything," Chuck exclaimed with exasperation.

Drenched in horrid fright, the Doctor's eyelids widened; his lower lip slowly dropped and the blood in his cheeks started to drain.

"Oh. No. No, no, no!"

"What? What is going on? What are you hearing?"

A sinister sneer overburdened his features as rage clouded his eyes. Swiftly, his feet viciously trampled towards Chuck and Sarah.

"You two. Why are you two down here? Are you stuck? Are you stuck down here?"

"Why?–"

"Don't play _coy_ with me," he threatened. "What are you two hiding from?"

Silence.

"I _know_ what is out there," he shrieked; his aggression augmenting, "and if you two prove me right then you have no _clue_ what you are dealing with! So prove me wrong. Now."

Silence.

"For goodness sake, prove me_** wrong**_!"

Chuck gulped, his face stained with worry. "Um ... ever heard of zombies?"

* * *

With a forceful push, Casey's masculine body passed through the door of his _Buy More_ locker. His protruding biceps tautened as his fingers curled into a tightened fist. Blank eyes stared back at him, widening with the look of desire. Groans escaped the dry lips of the brain-dead enemy that limped towards him. "Humph. They got you pretty bad," Casey uttered. A gruesome gash rested upon the zombie's right thigh, supplying the drooling blood which flooded down its leg. As if he'd encountered a violent clowder of cats, scratches stained his pale skin, covering his arms and back with eluded blood. The sharp, long nails of his arthritis fingers reached out in an attempt to claw away at Casey's tough exterior. Sliding his duck feet across the locker room's floor, he steadily neared the NSA spy, feeling the anticipation of shredding his prey sweep over him. Swiftly, Casey cupped his hand round the zombie's wrist and slammed his fist into its face. "Lunch break's over, kid!" He slit the zombie's throat and jammed his knife into its brain. Blood gushed as he removed his weapon. He was uncertain as to whether this attack would kill the zombie; as earlier, during his 'shopping spree' for supplies, a bullet through the head seemed ineffective. But he wasn't going to stay around to find out.

A soft click followed the turn of a handle. Casey peeped through the somewhat opened doorway that led from the locker room into the store. His eyes fell upon the zoo of maddened cannibals that crowded the _Buy More_. They were like prostitutes waiting on every corner for a 'hitchhike'. Only these crazed monstrosities waited for something more ghastly – human flesh.

To an ordinary citizen, this route seemed impossible to survive. However, Casey was used to death-threatening situations. If the impendence of his demise wasn't lurking along his path then his feet would travel down a different itinerary.

His plan was to reach Big Mike's office. That was where he last saw Morgan and so assumed he would still be there. Although, with Morgan to protect it would be impossible to successfully close the store and fight the remaining zombies. To add, he still wanted his cover to remain intact. Unleashing his dexterous fighting skills and extensive weaponry would tamper with his fake identity. Well, there was also the option of knocking the bearded bloke out cold…

Just as his muscular arm was about to vigorously burst open the door and reveal himself to the inhumane crowd, an unexpected yelp blast through the store. Rapid legs charged for the entrance as an unknown, living customer tried to run to safety. The zombies zoned in on her attempted flee and began limping towards her, desperately aching to grab hold of her life and tear it to shreds. As she reached the entrance her hasty feet scraped the floor, ceasing in position.

_More zombies!_

Hundreds inundated the parking lot, streaming on and on, filling the streets with their stench and bearing the depiction of catastrophe. Under the boiling radiance of the sun, this frantic female would soon become a victim to the heinous crimes of the zombie. Her fate had now been sealed. There was no escape.

_Great! This idiot brought more zombies into the store. Can't lock it up now._

The groans and grumbles of death intensified with each zombie acknowledging her presence. As their irregular footsteps neared her, their droning sound diminished from Casey's location. Now was his chance. Her misfortune paved the way for his success.

He charged. His body quickly darted through the doorway. Although most were preoccupied, those near him felt it easier to attack _him_ rather than mutilate her. He extracted his gun and fired bullets through their heads, hoping it would slow them down. Those in front of him received blistering punches to the face, in the hope of removing their presence from his pathway.

His darting form caught the frightened, crackbrained woman's eye and she enunciated her plea. "Hey! Hey. You. Sir! Help. Please. Please help me," she trembled. His ears were forced to ignore her. Trying to save her would complicate his scenario and only endanger his life in the process. To add, he made a promise to Chuck that he would save Morgan. And Casey was definitely a man of his word.

A predator's claws nearly latched onto his rough skin. Luckily, he grabbed hold of his attacker just in time and kicked him in the gut, flinging him against the wall. Its fragile body made contact with the hard, plastered concrete and collapsed against the floor. The forlorn female's plea ended with a single, sustained scream as the surrounding zombies discarded all evidence of who she physically appeared to be.

_Too late to help her now._

Casey's gun lifted, as the deafening sound of widened jaws about to dig their teeth into juicy flesh emanated from behind him. He turned and shot a bullet through its brain hoping to slow it down. With each strident footstep, he neared his refuge. Though, the closer he was to Big Mike's office, the closer the zombies were to him. Increasing in amount, those finished mutilating the body of the woman were ready to attack their next victim – Casey.

_Morgan better be worth this, Chuck. _

The store was drowned in noise – groans heightened as the _Buy More_ flooded with zombies urging to mangle their possible prey. The sound of gunshots burst through the corridors; repeating, repeating, and repeating. There were consistent scrapes against the floor as they dragged their feet across _Buy More_, following the rapid patter of Casey's steady run.

_Finally._

Tensed muscles in his arm thrust Big Mike's office door open, and he shoved it closed behind him, wrestling with a few zombies before it was able to shut. Without hesitation, he locked it, knowing it was only a matter of time before they broke the wooden door down, and it would be game over for him.

"Grimes?" he called out, searching for any sign of Chuck's best friend. Though, the empty corners of the office revealed his non-existent presence.

_Humph. Probably already part of the herd._

His eyes wandered upwards, contemplating an escape through the air ducts. However a grumbling noise, coming from inside the office, startled his observant ears. It was definitely the voice of a zombie, chowing away at its evening meal. He clutched his gun tightly, ready to shoot.

"Hungry, huh?" he exclaimed.

The croaky groans of the enemy halted. Except for the burdening sound of hands banging against the office windows and door, the room was left in silence. Concern treaded among Casey's path, fearing the deceased to be Morgan. Or even worse – Grimes being the hungry predator.

Slowly, the growls continued, increasing in volume; and a large figure appeared from behind Big Mike's desk. Blood smeared his full cheeks; his hands symbolised a murderer's feast and drenched in the stain of a person's death, his light-yellow tee and mustard-yellow nametag now obtained the mortifying colour of darkened red. His bald head and African-American physique resembled the life of an indolent store manager who failed to pass through the lethal claws of the Earth's new rabid society.

"So they got you, huh? That's too bad." A sharp scratch scarred Big Mike's forehead, acting as the black mark of his life's impending demise. It was quaint in coming to terms with; that Big Mike would never be normal again. He would never experience jocund tranquillity when his taste buds come into contact with Danish again. Fishing will never again be his luxury. Instead, his new addiction will be human flesh, constantly feigning for its delicious flavour.

Darting his eyes to the corner, Casey tried to infer who the victim had been. Luckily, no beard infested the deceased's face, leading him to conclude that Morgan was neither the zombie nor the attacked.

Clearly Big Mike's first meal wasn't enough to fill his stomach and gradually, he wobbled towards the NSA spy. He groused consistently, maximising his volume with every step closer.

The threatening pounds against the office windows became more and more ominous as time sped on. He had to act fast.

"Farewell, Tucker," Casey saluted. As quickly and as unexpected as a lightning bolt, Casey's hands wrapped into a headlock and snapped Big Mike's head, dislocating his vertebrae. And just to be certain, Casey's knife stabbed through Big Mike's brains, assuring his death (for now).

Glass cracked. A splinter pricked through Casey's green polo shirt, jabbing his back. Cold, wrinkly fingers stretched out, extending through the hole into the office.

_It won't be long before the entire glass breaks._

As hurriedly as possible, Casey jumped onto the desk and hauled himself into the air ducts. The glass shattered. Zombies made their way through; their hands merely missing his dangling legs.

_Phew. Close one._

* * *

Swaddled in foetal position, Morgan lay hidden behind the couch of the _Buy More_'s lounge room, concealing his face from reflecting off the humongous, black surface of the TV screen in front of him. He silently wept, clogging his mind with negative notions regarding his chances of escape. Nearly bitten, he managed to surpass the herd with a little 'hide and seek' and so far had not been found. Though, the longer he waited, the more he felt his time alive was wearing thin. He couldn't even come to terms with the ideology that any of his loved ones had fallen prey to the zombies' bite. They had to survive, for he couldn't determine what fate would be more chastising – eaten/transformed into a man-eating beast or surpassing this apocalypse with the burden of walking the rest of his life without a friend by his side?

"_Morgan._"

The resonating sound of a whisper gently brushed his ears, removing his mind from his tormenting thoughts.

"Morgan!" the voice repeated.

Indecisive as to where the sound originated from, his head flung in all directions, searching for the speaker.

"Up here you moron."

Falling upon the robust jaw-line of Casey, his eyes dilated with shock. Was this his ray of hope, providing him with an opportunity to escape from Pandora's Box?

"Casey!" he murmured. "_You_! You left me. I thought you weren't coming back, man."

"Mph. I wasn't. Chuck insisted."

"Chuck? What, Chuck? My buddy is still alive?"

"Yeah. You scratched? Bit?"

"Huh? Oh, no. No. But, Casey, do I have a bone to pick with you. How could you have just left me? Where is your honour, Casey? Where is your honour?"

"Get over it. Now climb up here so we can go."

Morgan's head peeked in on the zombies still pacing through the store, acting like customers uncertain of what to purchase. Even more so, this day mimicked Black Friday, leaving the Buy More just as packed to capacity as the day after Thanksgiving. There were still too many present. All it took was a slight twitch and his hideout would be discovered. "What? Are you insane? I am not climbing up there! They will see me."

"Oh, don't be a cry-baby. Don't you think it is about time you started wearing your big boy pants?"

"Ha! The cheek. I'll have you know that most masculine men fail to grow a full beard like mine. Take you for example. Where's _your_ beard, Casey?"

With annoyed frustration, the spy dropped himself to the lounge floor below, causing a daunting thump to resonate from the sound of his shoes making contact with the ground.

Nerves shot through Morgan's heart, fearing Casey's impulsive action had unravelled the lounge room's security blanket. "Casey! What are you doing? Have you gone mad?"

"Get up."

"Oh my gosh. This is it. You're going to feed me to the zombies…"

"Huh?" Despite his confusion with Grimes's response, Casey's thick fingers clutched hold of Morgan's green polo shirt, pulling him up into standing position. Morgan gulped.

The groaning sound of hunger slowly became audible as the frenzied zombies detected their presence. Casey had time though. Majority of them hadn't reached the glass yet.

He pulled back his fist, announcing, "Night, night" before introducing his knuckles to Morgan's face. Clobbered with Casey's potent blow, Grimes's mind fell into the unconscious.

* * *

Dropping his body from the air ducts into the locker room of _Buy More_, Casey flung Morgan's lifeless body over his shoulder, ready to venture back to Castle. Closing the store would have to wait. He certainly couldn't attempt such a mission with the passed-out Morgan by his side – or rather, _over_ his side.

Whilst entering in his security combination, his ears caught hold of the inauspicious grumbling clamour. They were getting close. _Again_.

Just as his locker door unlocked, spindly fingers quickly wrapped round Casey's ankle, gripping tightly for dear life. Gobsmacked and off-guard, he nearly fell off his feet, leaving his heart abruptly ceasing to pump.

_You? How are you able to still move?_

Slashed blood seeped across the floor. Its battered head, thrashed with the sharp point of a knife, lay gushed and motionless. However, the zombie's body continued to react and flicker, as though it obtained a mind of its own. Although Casey mutilated the brain, the possibility of receiving a scratch from this zombie remained just as threatening. Without the brain, it was still able to function.

_How?_

Groans intensified. Droning scrapes of dragging feet neared the locker room. He couldn't afford them discovering Castle. He had to depart. Now.

Casey jammed his foot on the zombie's wrist, forcing its instincts to persuade it into loosening its grip. Holding the door open, he slid through with Morgan still perched over his shoulder and safely charged through Castle. He turned to check that his locker was performing its function of automatically closing. Assured that it was he continued to run deeper into the heart of the underground base.

However, sometimes your eagerness prevents you from entirely securing yourself from the danger that you flee from.

Just before the locker shut; large, cold fingers grabbed hold of the steel door and with force, they gravitated it towards opening rather than closing. With the entrance into Castle left bare, limping cannibals slowly swayed down its corridors. Their wolf pack's ominous howls echoed through the walls, announcing their need for a feast. The continuous, never-ending string of wounded, primate carnivores passed through into the underground base, leaving those present (and alive) soon coming face to face with the Grim Reaper's handymen. Red tears from the damned formed trails of clustering droplets among the floor. Their sunken eyes and carved flesh told the tale of a failed warrior who lost the battle against the devil's powerful trident. But their impending presence in Castle told an even grander tale – the narration of how they ensured other victims would fall prey to the poisonous touch of their jaded incisors.

* * *

The Tardis flung open. The Doctor shook the ground below with his hasty, ponderous sneakers and, fearing his retreat, Sarah and Chuck hastily followed him.

"Hey! Where do you think you are going!?" she truculently hollered.

The blinding illumination of the Tardis's natural and colourful sparkle stupefied their newcomer-eyes. With its tree-like branches eluding from its walls, electrical wires dangling from the elevated ceiling and ceaseless interior space, this ship could be nothing but alien. It acted as a reminder of Castle in a way, appearing to eternally exist; breeding more rooms round every corner.

"Oh my gosh, it's huge!" Chuck exclaimed; his face plastered with surprised bewilderment.

"Yes, I know. Bigger on the inside," the Doctor remarked, tinkering with a few buttons and levers. Concentration captured his eyes.

"Doctor, if I could be so bold as to ask … um … are you running away?" A timid laugh bashfully escaped Chuck's lips; fearing the zombie outbreak was so drastic, even the omnipotent Time Lord was too frightened to stay. "Because announcing that zombies are impossible to handle and then charging into your time machine tends to scream 'out of here'…"

"Need to find out more information on why they came here, and by the way, Sarah, you heard their groans but Chuck didn't. Why?"

"What – how did you know my n–"

"Chuck let it slip earlier. And that psychic paper. You really just saw nothing? Hmm … That's odd. But very, very interesting."

Glaring with suspicion, she lacked trust in the Doctor's supposed certitude. He blatantly analysed her, spurring anxious feelings. His constant judgement nurtured vulnerability and she loathed the possibility of him reaching too close to her secret – albeit, private – identity.

"Wh – what does that mean … does that mean anything?" Chuck asked, clouded with concern.

"Hmm, I donno yet." Agitated, the Doctor's eyes remained diluted and perturbed. "Dammit! Why won't you work!?"

"What's wrong? What is it?"

"When did they arrive? Did you see them get here?"

"Who? The zombies? No," Sarah replied, softly stroking the back of her neck. "But what do you mean? The first bite?"

"No! Well, yes. The transfer. Neither of you, you don't know where it happened?"

Blank faces stared back at him. Hurriedly, he evacuated the Tardis.

"Where are you going?" A luminescent blue light beamed in his hand as he extracted his sonic screwdriver, using it's abilities as a means of hacking into the CIA government's mainframe. "What's that? What are you doing?" Chuck fretted.

The Doctor's fingers frenetically spread over a computer's keyboard, searching for information.

"It's a screwdriver. A sonic one."

Sarah's gun lay cupped in her hand and she pulled it to his face, attempting to halt his illegal activity. "Get off of there. That is CIA property and you have no permi–"

"AHH!" He lashed his hand against the monitor. "You know _surely_, located somewhere in the _**entire**_ internet, is the recording or information on the Jumbies' arrival!"

_Jumbie? What?_

"Oh and Sarah," the Doctor continued; "the next time you threaten or order me around, just remember who it is you are trying to intimidate."

She grimaced. "Right, and who is that exactly? The nickname 'Doctor' doesn't really reveal much."

"'The Doctor' is all you need to know."

"Is that so?"

"Ohh yes. Currently governments all across the world are praying for my assistance out of this nightmare so it is good to keep in mind that I am one person you **do not** want as an enemy."

"Oh, well now that's a little arrogant."

Stained with disdain, a menacing frown scowled his face. "More like the inconvenient truth."

Frantically, Chuck's hands flew in the air, trying to disrupt their dispute. "Uh, uh, guys. Let's not fight, okay. No one is the enemy here. So let's just act like adults and play nice, all right," he suggested, gently lowering Sarah's raised gun. "That's it."

"You mentioned Jumbies," she asked sternly, "What are they?"

* * *

"Jumbies, as they are called, are species that have been infected with the virus called _Pascentium Cerebrum_ that lives inside the blood of the Zombian species."

Huddled together, Chuck and Sarah sat across from their narrator, listening to his involute story. "Zombians themselves are moderately peaceful creatures. Autotrophic. Like plants. Physically, they appear similar to humans. Though, they lack ears or vocal cords which inhibit their ability to hear or speak. Oh, but boy are they smart! Ten times more intelligent than people."

"Okay …"

"Amazingly, their entire skin is covered in one giant cuticle that protects them from the sun. And the strange part is; they absorb their nutrients through the underside of their feet. Hah! How brilliant is that? Imagine humans. Walking around barefoot. Mind you, your feet would probably burn in the summer…"

"These … Zombians. Where do they come from?" Sarah inquired, hindering his off-trail thoughts. Tenderly, her palm soothed the back of her neck.

"There is a planet called Zomb, which is galaxies and galaxies away from here. That was their home."

"… Was?"

"Yeah. Peaceful planet. Beautiful. Absolutely exquisite. So luscious and green. You would see waterfalls stream into rivers; mountains reaching out across the land. Magnificent place. But just like most amazing worlds, it got destroyed. That's what war does, I suppose. It kills."

"Is that why they are here?" Chuck queried. "They need a new home?"

"Exactly. Well, that's my theory."

"Okay, so this virus," Sarah mentioned, diverting the conversation back to the matter at hand, "why is it attacking humans?"

"Well, it's simple. Foreign species enters this world bringing their foreign virus with them. Foreign virus gets into the bloodstream of you Earthlings and starts eating away at your cells."

"But why do they turn into those … uh –"

"Jumbies?"

"And why won't they die if you shoot them in the head," Sarah gulped.

"Wait, what. Destroying the brain doesn't work?" Chuck's eyes bulged with fright. Casey tried to inform him of this earlier. _'They don't die, Chuck.' _If that was so, then he basically sent Casey into the lion's den unarmed. "Sarah, how did you defeat those zombies you fought in the _Orange Orange_?"

Falling to the ground, her stringent eyes fell prey to the overbearing look of disquietude. Appearing closed off; she hid herself behind her protective barrier, fearing his question would unveil her secret. "Why don't you ask the Doctor? He seems to have all the answers."

Observantly, the Time Lord analysed her questionable behaviour, acknowledging its peculiarity.

"Doctor, how do they die?"

"Ah, humans! You never fail to amaze me. Always. Every time. Something threatens you and your first instinct is to kill it before it kills you. Without consciousness, you would be no better than a Jumbie." Their lack of words revealed their stunned silence and he proceeded with his explanation. "Simply put, the virus infects the human through the Zombians blood combining with human blood. This is usually transferred through a scratch or a bite. The virus travels to the human's brain and begins feeding off of the human's brain cells, eventually leaving the organism brain dead. But, luckily for the virus, and it is one smart virus; in doing so, it ingests human DNA. The virus mutates from an individual virus cell into something like a 'virus brain'. So when the human brain ceases to function, this mutated virus accumulates cells as a unit in the base of the skull, more specifically called the brain stem, at the top of the spinal column. This 'virus brain' now begins operating similar to that of a human's, just without human thought patterns and consciousness. And because it has human DNA built into it, cells are still able to respond to stimuli like a human would. So instead of the organism functioning as a human, it merely modifies into an organism, the Jumbies, which are just parts reacting and responding to stimuli."

Chuck's countenance was smeared in fearful confusion. "Oh … that's … simple."

"Oh come on. That was basic enough, wasn't it?"

"You had me at 'you are no better than Jumbies'. After that, you lost me."

"Okay, Chuck. Think of it like this," Sarah interrupted. "The CIA is the brain. They protect America which helps the country function smoothly. Without the CIA, the country would be corrupted with 'terrorists' which, in referring to the disease, are the virus. These 'terrorists' then invade the CIA. They collaborate with rogue CIA spies, which are the human DNA, and form a rogue organisation called 'Fulcrum'. That, Chuck, is the 'virus brain'. Fulcrum can operate just like the CIA, but don't have as many spies nor acquire the amount of secret information and weaponry that the CIA possesses. Thus, they aren't as 'developed'."

"So, Chuck," the Doctor intercepted, "get the picture? Oh goood."

"That makes sense, but I still don't understand how a bullet through the brain can't kill them."

"Still harping on about death, are we? What is it with you humans? So obsessed with dying. The human brain eventually dies. The virus eats it up. Like a three course meal, gobbles it whole. Shooting the Jumbie in the brain won't make a difference. The brain's already dead."

"So how do you kill it?"

"Well if you haven't figured that out yet then you aren't getting the answer from me."

Walker scowled with morbid disgust. "What?"

"You both are too obsessed with killing them. Until you learn to understand that murder is _not_ the first resort, then and only then will I tell you how to kill a Jumbie. They are a new breed of species. No matter how dangerous they are they deserve to live just as much as we do."

"They will _eat_ us!" Chuck shrieked.

"Oh, well now calm down. They're just hungry."

"Sarah, you fought them in _Orange Orange_," Chuck stated, his voice heightened with anxiety. "What did you do to stop them from attacking you?"

She ignored his query, trying to avert the attention away from her. "Do the Jumbies eventually die? I mean, wouldn't the virus kill it?" This avoidance left Chuck mildly bewildered.

"Eh, well no, not really. Viruses can't live outside a living host. This virus takes over the body, keeps it alive so it can survive."

"Okay. So why do they eat? And bite and … um, scratch?" Continuously, her hand continued to rub against the back of her neck, as if she pulled a muscle or woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

"Like I said. Basic urges are still there. They have a stomach. They need to fill it."

"Um … I got a question," Chuck remarked, "why only eat humans? Why not, I don't know, other Jumbies?"

"Do you know what a Jumbie smells like, Chuck? Their scent is revolting. Nothing would want to eat that. But they eat most animals I presume. It's just that humans have an attracting scent, draws them in. Like a bee attracted to a flower."

Welcomed silence announced their minds' need to mull over the astounding information. But the Doctor couldn't spare any more time discussing news he already knew. He had to come up with a plan of action. And fast. More and more humans were transforming every hour and he had to ensure the human race would stay alive. They didn't have to cease to exist just so the Jumbies could live.

Startled, Chuck's eyes widened with fear.

"Uh, guys…"

Both heads darted in his direction.

"Do you remember earlier when you both heard that noise and I couldn't hear a thing…?"

Sarah wearily frowned. "Yeah…?"

"Well I'm hearing it now…"

The Doctor's succulent, rosy cheeks morphed into a cold, pale reflection of death. Dread consumed his eyes. "That must mean they're close."

"_Close_?"

"Here. In Castle."

"_What_?"

Feeling nervous, Sarah gnawed her bottom lip as her hand delicately rubbed the back of her slender neck. This continual action allured the Doctor's attention.

_What was on her neck? And why keep rubbing it?_

After her feminine fingers fell away, and just before her glimmering blonde hair shaded the back of her neck, a daunting mark grazed her skin. Dried up blood cased the outline of her scab.

_Was that a scratch?_

* * *

Slowly, light replaced darkness as his eyelids buffered, gradually awakening. The blurry picture displayed before him demystified, allowing the pellucid world around him appear clearer. The aftereffect of Casey's vile punch caused a pounding sensation to beat against his skull and against his eardrum. As he yawned, stretching his sore muscles, his ears adhered to the haunting sound of hunger. His concentration became perspicuous as he finally took notice of his astonishing location.

"Jail? What? I'm in _jail_!? How did I – Casey ..."

Out of control, his eyes darted across the room, looking for an escape. "Casey!?"

Then _bang. _

The persistent hammer against the unbreakable glass door of his jail cell startled him.

Zombies. Hundreds of zombies. All hungry for Morgan's flesh.

Their razor-sharp teeth stunned his brittle heart. Long, pointed nails pecked the security glass. Gruesome, starved eyes stared back at him. He attempted to calm himself down. Surely he was safe in the jail cell wasn't he?

Wrong.

Gradually, the mass force of numerous bodies cracked the 'unbreakable' barrier. Slowly a fissure started to form, zigzagging down the glass-door.

He gulped, shutting his eyes closed. Was this the end?

* * *

**Sorry it is so long. Will try and cut down the length in the following chapters. xx**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Although hysteria thundered through the packed corridors of Westside Medical, no sound was more menacing than the thumping hearts of the survivors attempting an escape from their jungle predators. Like Simba and Nala, cornered by a group of hyenas, an escape route seemed inconceivable to these caged captives. And only a mighty Lion King like Mufasa could save them.

"No! Don't shoot," the Doctor shrieked. "You're hurting them!"

"If we don't shoot them," Casey bellowed, "we will be zombie meat."

"Oh for the love of Gallifrey, it's 'Jumbies'. They are 'Jumbies'."

"Yeah, well remind me later why I should care."

The gun, clutched tight in Shane's hands, slowly began to slip through his sweaty palms, like soap slipping through the dampened hands of a male convict. "I've never held a gun before," he trembled.

"Get over it."

Concentration never failed to depart from Casey's scrunched stare. He observed his surroundings with scrutiny and concern. A failing light bulb overhead played devil's advocate with their lives, flickering on and off as though someone had tampered with the switch. Occasionally, their eyes were blinded by a moment of frightful darkness, leaving them vulnerable to the claws of the dead that cornered them. Some appeared taintless in form, regardless of the bleached, pale skin tone that Death masked its victims with. Without a visible bite or scratch, it appeared implausible that a few of these cannibals had fallen prey to the Zombian's curse. However, the truth blared into the eyes of the living, as in front of them, these 'innocent' characters were most definitely hungry for their tanned flesh.

Curled tightly round her boy toy's sweat-drenched shirt, Elizabeth's hands clung onto Shane, using his masculine body as a human shield. Though, the frequent screeches that originated from her open-jawed mouth did an excellent job of unveiling her oh so well hidden presence. As she gradually lifted her body into standing position, her lengthened nails that gripped his back dug deeply into one of his fresh scars. He yelped with agony, feeling the tip of her finger accidently jab the fresh scratches that marked his skin. All those living momentarily jolted their heads in his direction, fearing a bite had been the cause of his shrill outburst.

The piercing point of Sarah's knife speared through the flesh of an elderly man in a grey hospital gown. Regardless, his claws continued to reach out to eat her and his teeth tried to make a meal out of her dagger. But her involuntary shot to his head and kick to his heart sent him tumbling through the hungry mob. She watched as his bald, scab-ridden scalp whacked against the concrete, hospital floor. "We can't fight all of them. There are too many," she exclaimed, her fear audible through her short-breathed exhales. Hastily, she reloaded her gun and continued to fire at the eager crowd. "Chuck?" she blared, "Casey, I can't see Chuck."

A sudden scream roared through the mass hysteria. Walker's eyes burst with startled dread. The Doctor unleashed his sonic screwdriver and charged towards the origin of the sound. Walker swiftly sprinted behind him, her bullets shooting down the obstacles that blocked his pathway. "I told you not to fire," he exclaimed.

"How else do you plan on getting through?" Irritation was evident in her frustrated tone.

"Through reasonable conversation."

"We don't have time to converse!"

Bang! Another one bites the dust – literally. Sarah's bullets were doing a squeaky-clean job of ensuring none had made it near their flesh.

"What do you suppose _we_ do?" Shane yelled. It was clear that his fingers weren't used to pulling the trigger of a loaded pistol as, instead of its original function, his gun was being used as a baseball bat, swiping repeated bashes against Jumbies' skulls. This allowed for a slimmer proximity between the living and the transformed, which felt a little too close for Elizabeth's comfort and she occasionally screamed "Ah, get it away, get it away" into his ear.

"Fight them off," Sarah howled. "Casey, cover them. We need the room where the Tardis is kept to be secure."

Casey's eyes bulged. "_Walker_!"

She darted round; scowled; lifted her gun to the Jumbie about to ingest a mouthful of her calf and fired a bullet through his brains.

The Doctor's skinny legs darted through the doors of room C13 with Sarah right behind him. "Guard the doors!" Chuck screamed. Inside the dire, foul scented hospital room, Ellie's arm lay clutched by a tight-gripping female's palm. The Jane Doe lay unconscious in her hospital bed. Tears soaked Ellie's eyes, expressing her fear in the sinister situation that held onto her firmly. "When we found Devon, everyone was so eager to reach the Tardis," she stated, her voice quaking with fear, "I saw her move. I thought she was alive. I didn't want to leave her here. Then she grabbed my wrist."

Sarah's body leaned her weight against the closed doors, providing a slight pressure barrier against the forceful mass of Jumbies that tried to enter through. Devon helped.

"Did you know her?" Chuck asked.

Ellie nodded frenetically. Tears streamed down her face. "I was her doctor. She was a coma patient of mine. And then she moved–"

"And you thought this was your chance to save her." The Doctor knit his brows. "Is she bit? Scratched?"

"I don't know. I haven't found any marks."

"I don't want to sound callous guys, but how – how are we expected to carry her unconscious body to your getaway vehicle without anyone getting bit?" Devon remarked. His muscles tensed, feeling strained by the hefty weight he pressed against.

The Doctor sighed. "We can't. We won't. There is no way she will survive."

Walker frowned. "So your plan is to _leave_ her here?"

"No! That's not what I am saying. _None_ of us will make it passed those doors alive."

Her jaw lowered in disgust. "Then what are you saying? That our only option is death?"

"I don't know! I need time to think."

"We don't _have_ time to think!" she shrieked.

The Doctor nibbled away at his fingernails as his red sneakers paced up and down the room. Silence lingered. Sarah's arms were weakening and her heels had lost their hold. Soon they would slip, sliding across the silky smooth floor and allowing the potent weight that they compressed against to break through.

Captain Awesome intercepted the silence. "We can't keep these doors closed for much longer, Doc."

"Devon, is there some secret passageway? Any other exit from this room?" the Doctor queried, fleetly pacing through his sentence.

"Uh, I – I don–"

"Yes," Ellie interjected. A sense of hope started to emerge in Chuck's eyes and he began to chuckle with sweet relief. "The bathroom," she continued. "It has a door that leads to the next room. It's hidden so patients won't find it but we need it for easier access into rooms. You know, encase an emergency occurs and the front entrance is blocked."

The Doctor grinned. "Brilliant."

With the sonic screwdriver firmly held in his hand, he used its alien powers to unlock the door that separated the bathroom of hospital room C13 with C14.

"Ellie, can you get your hand free?" Chuck asked.

"I can try."

As Eleanor tried to worm her wrist free from her patient's sturdy grasp, Jane Doe abruptly bolted her eyes open. Amber-bile, bloodshot eyes glared directly at her, electrifying her with ill-omened terror.

Chuck's heart momentarily lapsed. "Ellie … she's not human…"

Staring upon her transformed patient, Eleanor's blood violently pumped panic through her veins. She frantically tried to pull her hand free from her coma patient's grasp. But Jane Doe's fingers were too tightly wound round her Doctor's wrist. "Ellie," Devon screamed, "Get free."

"I can't!" she freaked.

Jane Doe's fingers started to gain movement. Her teeth reached out, nearing Ellie's flesh. Ellie quivered and pulled. Jane Doe's claws neared her skin. "_Ellie_!"

_Bang. _

Sarah's raised gun fired a bullet into the base of the coma patient's head. Suddenly, Jane Doe's movements halted. She appeared as she was before – motionless. "That's the brain stem, right?" Walker exclaimed.

"How – how did you know that would work?" Chuck stuttered.

"I didn't."

Ellie's heart relaxed, returning to its steady rhythm. Though Devon's eyes remained bulged and gobsmacked by Walker's killer instincts. He gulped. "Remind me again … Chuck's girlfriend is a spy?"

* * *

As sunken as the pit of hell, black rings circled the greedy eyes of these Frankenstein monsters. Although ineffective, Casey's persistent bullets slowed them down, occasionally knocking them to their feet where some experienced difficulty in rising once again. However, the three were running out of time. To their right, the room where the Tardis had been parked lay vacant. And they were just metres away from their escape. But the entrance to that room needed guarding. If they charged through, it would be incapable for the rest to surpass the mob unscathed.

"Help me!" Shane screamed, his squeal resonating as a plea rather than a suggestion.

"You! You guys brought us here," the lamenting prostitute cried, passing the blame onto Casey's shoulders. "If we die it is _your_ fault!" Her words remained semi-inaudible as her scratchy throat and high-pitched weep choked the clarity of her voice. But as her tears blocked her vision, a relentless Jumbie approached her from behind.

"Concentrate," Casey screamed, firing a bullet into the threatening Jumbie's head. His vampire teeth merely missed piercing the veins of her neck. A jolted shiver slithered up her spine and she momentarily dug her fingers into Shane's back once more.

"Guys … I don' fel god. I think shomething wong waf m…"

"What? Shane, what did you say?"

Casey's eyes failed to depart from his crowding predators. "Did he get bit?"

"Shane?"

No response.

"Shit."

The Doctor's face appeared from the room they guarded. "Quick. We've locked the other door. It won't be long before they get through. Let's get to the Tardis."

Adrenalin shot through Chuck's blood. "Oh my God, Elizabeth!" He dashed through.

"No, _Chuck_!" As the Intersect's long legs burst through the doors, the back of his shirt slipped through Sarah's fingers, ensuring her promise of protection would be tested.

Destabilized, Elizabeth fell to the floor, losing the battle to her starved enemy.

"Leave her, Chuck," blurted Casey, "she's been bit." A fresh mark dented her shoulder, gushing blood down her arm. But Bartowski remained oblivious to the others' warning to stay away. Hurriedly, he crouched beside her. Casey shot at the monster who now attempted to plague Chuck's flesh. The Intersect dragged her body closer to the guarded room whilst anxiety charged through his voice. "Where's Shane?" he exclaimed, dashing out into the wild zoo once more to search for his other new acquaintance.

"He's been infected. Let him go!" echoed the voices from behind him. Ellie's shrill screams boomed danger into his ears. "Get to the Tardis. Go," the Doctor ordered the group.

"Chuck, look out!"

However, Casey's bellow arrived late. Chuck's head glanced in the wrong direction. Shane's jaded incisors neared his neck. His nails latched hold of Chuck's arm. Sarah lifted her gun. Two bullets were fired. Shane's body collided with the ground. And so did Chuck's.

* * *

90 MINUTES EARLIER

* * *

Casey's pounding hooves charged through Castle's corridors.

"That's them," Chuck trembled.

Sarah raised her gun, facing the direction of the ominous sound. The Doctor's palm pressed her weapon down. "Now, now, Walker, no need to get trigger happy. There is nothing wrong with a simple negotiation."

"Oh right. Like they are willing to negotiate."

"Well, have you _tried_ negotiating with them?"

"No, because I am too busy trying to prevent myself from getting bitten."

"And scratched?"

She drew back with uncertainty. Her eyes captured the look of simultaneous fear and confusion. "What?" she gulped.

"Oh nothing."

"Guys … they're getting closer..." Chuck observed. Concern sullied his voice. Ignoring the Doctor's command, Walker lifted her gun once again towards the assumed herd. A shadow loomed. "Eek. This is it."

Stodgy feet stampeded towards the trio. A look of surprise shaded his eyes and he relaxed his clutch of the weapon lodged in his virile palm. Sarah lowered her gun. Chuck sighed with respite. "Oh thank God. It's only Casey."

"Sarah." Relief consumed the NSA spy. She was alive and her body seemingly unscathed. "Secured _Orange Orange_?" His eyes then fell upon the newcomer as well as acknowledged the unacquainted presence of the police box. Militantly, he clucked his boots together and saluted the skinny bloke. "Doctor."

Walker and Chuck's eyes bulged with surprised bafflement.

An extensive grin widened across the Doctor's face. "Ohh, but do my eyes deceive me? Is that Agent Casey I see?"

"The one and only, sir."

"It _is _you!" Unpredictably, the Doctor charged towards his familiar friend with open arms, embracing him with a welcoming hug.

Slight discomfort could be deduced through Casey's begrudged expression. "Ugh … Doctor, you know I'm uh, not much of a hugger."

"Ah, but you've always hugged me."

A puppy dog expression gloomed Chuck's face. "Wha … Casey! You said you were saving your hugs for me!"

"Boys, focus," Sarah interjected, acknowledging that the Jumbie sound never failed to diminish. Their perilous loom was still impending.

"I didn't know you were working here? Must be fun kicking it back a lil," the Doctor continued.

"Wait, Casey," Chuck intercepted, "where is Morgan?"

"He is locked up in one of the cells. Unconscious. Don't get your panties in a twist, he is fine for now. Dwarf outsmarted those brain-dead bozos."

"That's my bearded buddy. We need to fetch him. That noise you are hearing, Casey, is the sound of the zombies."

The Doctor shrilled. "No. 'Jumbies', Chuck. They are 'Jumbies'."

Casey scrunched his face. "Huh? Jumbies?"

"We will explain later," Sarah stated. "Right now we need to go."

"No! There is no way I am leaving without my best friend. Again."

"Chuck, there isn't time."

"Are we seriously going to negotiate this?" he pronounced.

The Doctor chuckled. "No. Apparently Walker doesn't believe in negotiating."

She glared at him, scowling with antagonistic ire. "Chuck, we need to go. He is in a cell. He is safe."

The haunting noise soon amplified. More shadows grew from around the corner of the passageway. Sarah cupped her arm round Chuck's, pulling his body closer to the Tardis.

The Doctor shrugged. "There is no rush. Depending on how many, we can always try the peaceful path and talk to them. Maybe they can provide us with some necessary infor–" The Jumbies limping bodies soon turned the corner. Their battered figures, protruding bones and dangling limbs augmented. Droplets of blood soon merged with more blood, forming a trail of thick, ruby liquid across Castle's floor. "Ooh … yeah, that's a large crowd…"

"Run."

Casey tightened the grip of his weapon. Clamourous, repetitive gunshots rumbled through the underground base. "Casey, we need to go." He fired his last bullet and dropped his empty pistol to the floor, thereafter sprinting to the wide open Tardis doors. The Doctor shut it closed behind him.

"Let me out. I need to go back. I need to save Morgan."

"Can't do that, Chuck," Casey exclaimed.

Determined, Bartowski ignored all orders and darted to the Tardis' entrance. Sarah quickly dashed in front of him, guarding the doors from opening. "Chuck, I forbid you."

"You forbid me? What am I, 12?"

"Well you're acting like it."

Gobsmacked, his jaw dropped in repulsion. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Chuck, if you don't want to be treated like a 12 year old then stop acting like one."

"You stop acting like one," he mumbled under his breath.

"Gotta think of it this way, Bartowski," Casey remarked. "Who would you rather save right now? Your best friend, who is in a secure cell, protected my unbreakable glass? Or your sister and brother-in-law who are in the open wild, defenceless against any unpredicted beast attack?"

The scrawny Intersect gulped, indecisive in his choice from this heart-wrenching ultimatum. His downtrodden eyes fell upon Sarah's. Concern lurked in hers and her heart ached to comfort his forlorn, irresolute heart. "We can save them all, Chuck," she reassured. Her caring eyes expressed so much warmth, relaxing him to a degree.

The Doctor's fingers frenetically fiddled with his buttons and levers. "Where to, Bartowski?"

He swallowed once more, his eyes never failing to depart from hers and her eyes never failing to depart from his. "Fine. First stop: Echo Park."

* * *

Mute, blind and dissolved in silence, Ellie's heart tenderly pumped with charged fear. The lights of their apartment were switched off as Chuck had ordered, leaving the house as dark as midnight's pit. Her mind incessantly throbbed from her attempt at deciphering what 'threat' Chuck tried to warn her about.

With a baseball bat in hand, her feet slowly crept towards her bedroom, hoping to successfully hide her body below her thick, cosy duvets. Occasionally, the wooden floorboards of her home felt her numb toes press between the cracks, allowing it to creak with age. The sound sent fiery shivers up her back, as though malaria had caught up with her.

Reaching the warm quarters of her bedroom, she extracted her phone, attempting to call her husband for the hundredth time. But once again, the only answer she received was his voicemail. The silence that accompanied her thumping heart continued to overstay its welcome, and its lingering presence stirred concern and uncertainty in her mind.

_Where the hell is Chuck?_

Her body froze. Chills tickled her neck. A sudden clang had reverberated from her brother's bedroom. "Chuck?" she called out. Her voice trailed. No reply. "Chuck?" Once again the intruder's lips remained mute.

Her fingers curled tightly round her weapon. Leaping off her bed, she charged towards the entrance of her brother's room, clanging her knuckles against his door. "Chuck … is that you?" Panic charged through her brain, dreading the thought that she failed to lock the window – the 'Morgan-door' – of her brother's bedroom, leaving her and the house momentarily vulnerable.

"Chuck," she continued, "you are scaring me. If that is you please answer. I don't want to be in the dark anymore. What is going on?"

As she turned the lock, an unfamiliar growling sound increased in volume. She treaded closer. The footsteps of the growler amplified. She could hear the soles of its feet slap against the floor. Swallowing the ball of saliva that formed in her throat, she burst the door wide open. Through the glistening light originating from Chuck's wide open window, Ellie witnessed lifeless eyes glowering at her with desire. "Oh my God!" Drool cascaded from the female predator's bottom lip. She staggered towards her, enthusiastic to feed her hunger. Ellie raised her baseball bat. The Jumbie's jaw lowered, ready to take a bite. Ellie grimaced. As the cannibal's blood-stained sundress blew against her leg, she swiped her bat across her enemy's face and watched as its head bashed against the edge of Chuck's bed. Ellie dropped her weapon. Red liquid leaked down the wooden bedpost. "I am so sorry," she fretted. "I – I …" Charging towards the intruder, her medical instincts took pilot of her body and she lowered the unconscious female onto her brother's bed. The lady's wedding and pinkie finger of her left hand had been crunched off, but bandaged. A puddle of blood blemished the bind up. Ellie examined the female's battered brains, fearing the swipe of _her_ bat had killed this woman, thereby titling Eleanor as a 'murderer'. Her eyes glanced over the wounded's chest. A wheeze escaped the brain-beaten woman and Ellie hurriedly checked her pulse.

"That can't be possible."

V_worrp. Vworrp._

"But you're–"

"Ellie, get away from that."

She darted her head round. From the beaming light of the window, the shape of her brother's heart-warming face materialised. "Chuck? Where did you–"

"From my Tardis," the Doctor exclaimed, announcing his presence. "And Chuck's right. Best you get away from that body." Eleanor scrunched her brows, now taking notice of the strange blue police box that had miraculously vapourised. Sarah and Casey's faces appeared from the entrance. "I'm the Doctor. You must be Eleanor."

"Ellie, get away from her, you don't k–"

"I need your help. I'm a doctor too. I saw her approaching and impulsively hit her head with a bat, but I think I can still save her. She's breathing."

The Doctor threw his long, brown trench coat over a rack in his spaceship and darted towards the assaulted woman. He extracted his sonic device.

"What is that?" Ellie questioned.

"A screwdriver."

Lines creased her forehead. "You can't help her with a screwdriver."

"This one's sonic." The blue beam from his device shone into the unconscious female's eyes. Soon the growls began again, stirring excitement within him. "Everyone take a step back. No one do anything rash. I want to talk to her."

"I appreciate that, Doc," Chuck remarked. "But we need to get to Devon and Morgan. Now."

The remaining fingers of the vicious beast began to gain motion, stretching out for something to latch onto. The Doctor moved towards her with caution. "Hello." Her eyes jerked open. "I'm sorry about what happened to you." Gradually, she turned her head in his direction, her mouth gaping in hunger for his flesh. "I can help. If you let me." Slowly, she lifted her body towards him. "What's your name?" Her salivary tongue licked her upper lip, craving the meal that stood before her. "An answer would be lovely." As her limping legs gravitated towards him – her grumbles being the only response to his question – Sarah raised the gun in her hand and fired a bullet into the face of the hungry female. Her blood-drenched head flung back and her body fell upon the bed again. Ellie's heart pounded with sudden fright. The Doctor shrieked as a ball of rage culminated in his eyes. "What have you done?" She failed to respond. Aggressively, he charged towards her. "I told you not to hurt her."

"And if I didn't fire that bullet she would have infected you."

"Miss Walker, I don't think you quite realise how capable I am of handling this situation. Your bullets do not come in handy and I do not _need_ them for assistance."

"Do you not understand how much you are putting all our lives in danger? My mission is to keep Chuck safe and to _stay alive_! If you are going to try and converse with _every_ one of these flesh-eating cannibals then surely one of us will die!"

"Sarah, don't–" Chuck blurted.

"Would you rather have her alive than us?"

"She can still feel. When you shoot her you are punishing her with pain."

"She was about to eat Ellie two minutes earlier!"

Enraged, the Doctor let out a shrill bellow, "She is an _innocent_!" His screech blasted through the wide open windows of Chuck's room. Sarah gulped. She'd forgotten that important little fact. The lady wasn't some criminal who was hell bent on taking over the world or the CIA. She was a normal human being who had been plagued by the Zombian's unforgiveable curse. Nevertheless, innocents could still wound them. Or scratch.

Ellie shred the silence. "Can everyone please explain to me what the _hell_ is going on?" All heads darted in her direction. "Since when does Sarah know how to fire a gun, Chuck? And how is it okay to willingly shoot a human being?" Blank faces stared back at her. "Can someone – _anyone_ – explain to me what the hell is going on?"

"Ellie, I promise I will clarify it all to you," Chuck vowed. "But right now we need to get to Westside Medical and save Captain Awesome."

Her heart speedily raced. The colour from her cheeks started to drain. "Oh my God, Devon."

"Yeah … so … you mind if I explain to you on the way?"

* * *

The distinctive sound of the Tardis intensified as a blue police box demystified, becoming more opaque. With a powerful pull, the Doctor's clenched fist opened the Tardis' door. Hordes of Jumbies plagued the Westside Medical corridors. Their eyes focussed in on the newcomer 'vehicle' and the smell of flesh drew their waddling bodies towards the Tardis' direction. "Right," he announced, "not here then." With a forceful slam of the door shut, he darted towards the levers. Gradually, as the extra-terrestrial sound of the Tardis increased in volume, it soon became transparent yet again; leaving the clawing hands of the hungry Jumbies grabbing hold of air.

* * *

The Doctor's tiny head peeped through the Tardis' half-flung open door. Dust accumulated in the air of the miniature storage room. Boxes containing medical kit stood neatly on the shelves and piles of blue folded scrubs packed the cupboards. "No. Not here." He shut the door of his spaceship and it evaporated yet again.

* * *

A strong wind whipped the corners of the blue police box. As the Doctor retreated from his spaceship, the potent air current blew his long, brown cape and spiky hair in an easterly direction. "Ah, would you look at that. Jumbies even made it to France." He waved jubilantly at the limping mutants that walked the earth down below.

"This is not Westside Medical," Sarah sternly remarked, her body now also escaping the warm, secure corridors of the Tardis.

"You don't say. Seems we have made a wrong turn."

The muscles in Chuck's quivering hands tautened, feeling the icy chill of the cold, French air nip away at his skin. "Are we – are we," he stuttered, "on the Eiffel Tower?"

"Looks that way don't it?" An amused grin grooved the skin of the Doctor's cheeks. "I remember when this beauty was built. I should take you then sometime. Ah, you'll love France in the 1880's."

"T-that's great," Chuck retorted. "I've all – always wanted to v-visit the Eiffel Tower. B-but right now, we n-need to find my br–"

"Oh yes! I forgot about that for a second. To the hospital." His cape blew behind him like a superhero soaring through the air. Everyone ventured back into the Tardis in search of Ellie's long lost fiancé.

* * *

Like a head getting beaten to a pulp, a strong fist repeatedly pounded against the door of apartment 211. With shock, a concerned fellow swiftly opened it. He smirked with delight. "Took you long enough."

A slender, dark-haired female charged through. The red lipstick from her lips smeared her cheeks, and her tight-fitting, skimpy outfit appeared clawed by some rabid beast. The net of her fishnet stockings had been cut and unravelled, as though fish had freed themselves from her snare. "You will not believe the trouble it took for me to get here. I am so charging extra."

"Wha … now that's just unfair."

"Are you even aware of what is going on out there?"

"Totally. I went out earlier to order some fries and a burger but some dude tried to hook me from behind. Instead, I came back here and ordered you."

"Did the maniac leave a mark?"

"Looks like a tiger clawed my back. But it's chilled. Ladies love warrior wounds."

She stared at him with mistrusting uncertainty. "The shirt hides it well…"

"Chill. This whole thing is probably just some huge prank orchestrated by the government."

"Uh, are you insane? First of all, there is not enough make-up in the world to make all those crazy people out there appear like realistic walking-dead meat-eaters. Second of all, they are all _acting_ like realistic walking-dead meat-eaters! I highly doubt the government would orchestrate one citizen mutilating and chewing another. Eh. I'm sorry, but this flesh is too fresh to be eaten."

He chuckled. "Did you run?"

"Duh. Do you even watch zombie movies, Shane? The chicks always get eaten first."

"Ha-ha you're like their fast food."

"Whatever. I came here to do my job and please a customer. This trip will not be made in vain."

As he locked his door, 'securing' the perimeter, an unforeseen sound originated in his living room –

_Vworrp. Vworrp._

* * *

The Doctor's hands clutched hold of a few levers in the Tardis. As the spaceship lurched abruptly in zigzag directions, everyone hung onto something for dear life. "Do you even know how to fly this thing?" Sarah shouted, her body jerking to the jolting movement of the vehicle.

"Uh, no. No," he exclaimed, his eyes still focused on the levers. "But I am scheduled for my learners in December. So…keep fingers crossed."

With a dropped jaw, her bulged, irate eyes slowly glanced towards Chuck. "He – he's kidding," Bartowski tittered with uncertainty. "He joke…he make joke."

"I don't mean to be the pessimist here," Casey interjected, "but we need to discuss the possibility that Devon Woodcomb is–"

A loud-screeched "no" echoed through the Tardis, escaping Ellie's lips and shattering Casey's eardrums. "Don't you dare, John. Don't you even think my fiancé is dead."

"Mph. That's not what I was implying."

"Yeah. We know what you were implying, Casey," Chuck insinuated.

The motion of the Tardis halted as the Doctor parked his vehicle in position. "Would everyone just stop arguing? Your fiancé is fine, Eleanor. I'll make sure of it. He's probably right outside these doors as we speak." He quickly charged towards the entrance of the Tardis and, once again, flung the doors wide open.

Unfamiliar eyes stared blankly at the faces peeping through the entrance of the police box. "What the hell," Shane exclaimed, "is _that_?"

A perplexed look shrouded the Doctor's face. "Uh…hmm…well I think it's a bit late to inform you, Eleanor, but I think your fiancé is cheating on you with another woman."

"That's not my fiancé," she grunted.

Sarah's analysing eyes stared back at the unacquainted faces. "Is that a … prostitute?"

"I think they prefer the term 'courtesan'. It's just more polite. Well … I suppose 'harlot' works as well."

"And 'trollop'? What about 'trollop'?" Chuck joined in.

"You might as well call me a hoe while you're at it," she disgruntled.

"Oh – no, that's not – I didn't mea–"

She flouted his apology. "Who are you and how did you even possibly get here?"

"Well hello there. I'm the Doctor. These here are my companions. What's your name, mam?"

"Elizabeth," she replied.

"Ooh, Elizabeth?"

"Yeah. Like the queen."

"No. No, don't say that." Her brows furrowed.

All eyes glanced towards the courtesan's friend. "Uh … the name's Shane."

"Like from the TV series? How exciting. Though, quite ironic."

Lines creased his forehead. "Which TV series…?"

"Oh … right, that hasn't aired yet. Or been created yet… Listen Lizzie, Mr Walsh–"

"That's not my surname…"

"We do apologise for this inconvenience. It seems we have the wrong room. We will just be on our way then."

A scourging look of horror smeared Bartowski's face. "What? We can't just leave them here!"

Casey clutched hold of his sleeve. "Chuck, leave it."

"What – have you guys gone insane? What about the whole defending the country and the world so the citizens can live peacefully nonsense? These are citizens and they need our help. They will die out here."

Fumes escaped the NSA spy's nostrils and he grumbled displeasingly. "I am not sharing a room with a prostitute, Chuck. It's illegal."

"Oh so it's illegal now to share a room with a prostitute?"

"No. Prostitution, you dumbass. It's against my code of conduct."

"You know, I can hear you…" Elizabeth commented.

"Great. Look what you have done now, Casey, you have hurt her feelings."

Shane attempted to end the dispute. "Dude, it is chilled man. It's not like we'll be any safer in a police box anyway."

"Oi! That's a major insult I'll have you know. This beaut is a Tardis," the Doctor exclaimed, his outraged disdain overshadowing his internal pride.

"I agree with Chuck," Ellie remarked. "We can't leave them here." The Intersect smiled broadly in her direction, pleased that his sister's heart also pumped humanity through her veins.

"Wait, hold on now. Have you asked them if they want to even join us?"

Clouding uncertainty shaded Elizabeth's eyes. "What's a Tardis?"

The Doctor grinned. "It's a spaceship. And time machine. And … it's also alive."

Shane chuckled with disbelief. "Is this for rea–"

"What's your name?" she asked, her eyes blazing a look of intrigue in Chuck's direction. Sarah furrowed with baffled suspicion.

"Uh me? Oh, I'm Charl – Chuck."

Elizabeth's hazel green eyes settled upon his. He could feel a sense of maladroit discomfort cause his palms to intensify with sweat; as though her interrogating, emerald eyes burned the retina of his. The corner of her lip slowly widened into a silent smile. "All right. Shane, let's join them."

* * *

BACK TO THE PRESENT

* * *

Following the fall of the Intersect, a shrill cry bounced off the hospital walls, grazing its quarters with the sound of dismantling terror. "_Chuck!_" Ellie's cheeks flooded with tears of horror and Devon's masculine arms cupped round his fiancé, caging her body from nearing her fallen brother.

A quaking tremble consumed Sarah's limbs. "Oh my God, Chuck." She shivered like a tremor as her panicked mind stifled her thoughts with apprehension. In anguish, her legs dashed towards him. However, her partner's plunged arm immobilised her body from nearing the crime scene. The Doctor had already grasped the wounded Intersect before she had a chance to, carrying his comatose body with haste to the guarded room. "Block the doors," he shrieked.

"No, Elizabeth is still–"

"She's not," Casey muttered. The shredded body of their new acquaintance had served as dinner to the ravenous patients and staff of the Westside Medical hospital. Their gangly fingers had grated her skin, nibbled her organ of flesh and dragged her decapitated existence into their circle of anthropophagites.

The Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to lock the door, giving them some time to reach his spaceship.

He burst through its blue entrance. "I'll launch a protective barrier round the Tardis. We don't need any more Jumbie threats on our lives." Entering though, with Chuck in his arms, Devon's eyes fell into a pit of bewilderment after witnessing the spaceship's never-ending size. "Devon and Eleanor, there is a medical room in the back of the Tardis," the Doctor exclaimed. "Two turns to your left, one to your right, fifth yellow door on your left hand side. Let's hope there's still someone to save."

Devon caught his breath. "Okay … so this is a space and time machine. You're an alien. Outside, those things are aliens. Casey and Sarah are _really_ secret government spies. And I'm carrying my soon to be bro-in-law's wounded body. Whoa … today has been a long day! That's a lot to take in after a short period of time."

"_Devon!_ Concentrate," Ellie screamed. "Chuck's been shot," After a frenetic nod, they both hurriedly passed through the Tardis' corridors, nearing the Medical room.

Sarah turned to her partner. The Doctor's intuitive ears tuned in on their muttered conversation, trying not to attract any attention towards his uninvited eavesdrop. She diminished the sound of her voice to an accusatory whisper. "Did you fire the second bullet?"

Casey shook his head. "That bullet came from the opposite direction, Walker. The balcony. Someone else is still out there."

"And someone else just shot Chuck."

Her fuming eyes shone red lights into his. "Walker, don't even think about it. There is no way you are going back out there. Especially not for Bartowski's sake."

"Someone just fired a bullet through Chuck's chest, Casey, and you're not the least bit concerned who the shooter is?"

"It was an accident, Walker. The guy was aiming for Shane. Don't blame the poor bloke for his bullet arriving a little later than yours." She dropped her gaze, feeling disheartened by an internal burden of worry. "He will be fine. You've got nothing to fear."

Her eyes fell back to his, shaded by a reddened haze and sheath of tears. "He's the Intersect, Casey. It was my job to protect him." Steadfastly, her shoulder brushed passed his as she trailed away.

_The Intersect?_

Chuck's existence now flashed like a light bulb in the Doctor's mind. The name 'Bartowski' had rung a few bells before, however it wasn't until the unacquainted mention of Chuck's forte that the Doctor recalled Bartowski's pivotal reference in the history books. He was the Intersect, one of the most vital men of time. His death now would be rather untimely to say the least.

A sudden scream blasted through the Tardis' walls. All heads flung in the direction of the screech's origin.

Walker hastily appeared from the corner of the medical room. The Doctor and Casey soon followed. With defibrillator in hand, Captain Awesome attempted to revive Chuck's heart. "Come on, man. Come on."

"Do something, Devon! Resuscitate him!" Ellie screamed, welcoming the stream of more tears down her face.

"I can't – I…" A quake cracked his voice. Chuck's stationary body lay motionless on the operating table; his eyes so deeply shut as though slumber had captured his body's cognizance and devoured it whole. Devon attempted to defibrillate him once more. "You can't do this to us, bro. You got to wake up, man." Bartowski's mouth remained closed, responding with silence. Devon attempted resuscitation. Repeatedly, his potent hands pressed down against his soon to be brother-in-law's chest. No pulse. He tried again. Chuck's body failed to respond. Deep breaths of exhaustion escaped Devon's lips, yet he failed to stop trying. The blood eluding through Bartowski's blemished shirt stained Devon's palms. Chuck's cold body jolted in response to Captain Awesome's thrust against his chest, bouncing the animal patterned curls of his dark, oily hair into the air, before it settled again onto his forehead.

Bereavement had stunned Sarah with its paralysing sting, leaving behind the remains of a pale complexion and tenderly pulsating heart. Casey's bulged eyes expressed the stunned emotion that pulsed through his veins whilst Ellie's widened jaw and muted weep shot daggers through the heavy air.

Devon's two footsteps away from Bartowski's broken body fractured the paralysed silence. "No, no," Ellie whispered.

The Doctor lowered his head in grief. His touch on Sarah's shoulder halted the wringing of her hands. "I'm so, so sorry," he consoled. Without making any eye contact, she turned away, departing from the room where her fallen hero lay.

* * *

45 MINUTES EARLIER

* * *

The jerking movements of the flying Tardis came to a rutted halt. The Doctor parked it firmly in position. "Can I just say," Chuck panted, "I would feel a lot safer in the wild than in this flying time machine."

"And space. Don't forget it also travels through space."

"All right, soldiers. Let's go save Ellie's fiancé." With his gun held firmly in his hands, Casey charged towards the entrance of the Tardis. Chuck followed close behind him.

"Ellie, I think it's best if you stay in here where you are safe," Bartowski advised.

"No. It is my fiancé who is out there and I want my face to be the first he sees. Well, the first _human_ face he sees."

"But Ellie–"

"No, Chuck. I have made up my mind." A frustrated sigh whiffed through his lips and he gave in to his sister's demands.

"Uh … what 'bout Elizabeth and me?" Shane inquired. "Can we stay?"

"What's wrong, Shane?" Liz tantalised. "Scared of the big bad wolf?"

Casey snickered. "Nah, you can't stay here, pansy. We need muscle." He handed the bloke a gun. Shane's arms felt its cumbersome mass weigh down his scrawny body. "Don't drop it, idiot. That's not a toy."

"You know violence is the last resort…" The Doctor remarked.

"I respect your opinion, Doctor. But with the bulk amount out there, guns might come in handy. Besides, it's not like our bullets kill them."

Before Chuck could depart, Sarah's palm grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling him aside. "Chuck, I want you to stay in the Tardis."

His puppy dog eyes frowned in dismay. "What, no. You have got to be kidding me."

"I can't risk you getting bit."

"If Ellie can go then so can I."

"Chuck, please. Don't argue with me about this." He grunted with dissatisfaction.

Soon, Elizabeth's snooping personality intruded on their conversation. "Wait, is Chuck staying?"

"Yes–"

"No-o," he grieved.

"No, it's okay, Chuck. If you stay, I'll stay."

Walker sneered. "Really …?"

"Oh yeah. I think it will be fun. Just Chuck and I … in a big, old spaceship … talking … alone. What do you think, Chuck? You up for it?"

Sarah bit her inner gums. Her leering eyes fell from the prostitute to the Intersect. "Yeah, Chuck … you … up for it…"

"No. Listen. Guys! My sister's fiancé is out there and while it is your job to protect me, Sarah, it is my job to protect my family. You are not going out there one man down."

"Aw, but Chuck, we could have so much fun inside the Tardis. Maybe explore. Play a few games. Hide and seek? Strip poker?"

Bothered by her unsolicited presence, Sarah's face was smeared with exasperation. She ignored the tiresome flirtatious attempt of the slut beside her. "When your safety is being jeopardised then yes, Chuck, it is my job to keep you safe. Can't you please respect that? For once?"

"I do, Sarah. But you are asking too much of me. How can you expect me to sit back and do nothing while my friends and family possibly get eaten or mangled by some cannibal? It's not fair."

Although failing to respond, Walker's pleading eyes spoke for her. Silence lingered between them. Elizabeth was overwhelmed with perplexity. "Wait so … are you staying or going? I'm confused."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well which would _you_ prefer?"

"Whoa … okay. I see I'm stepping in on someone else's territory. Chill. I'll leave." An astonished scowl stained the prostitute's face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She raised her brow.

"Yeah …" Chuck queried, "What – what do you mean?"

A long trench coat blew behind the Doctor as he rushed towards them. "Oi! Guys, what's going on here? Let's get going. Come on. Devon's not going to survive out there forever."

The rest of them, including Elizabeth, soon departed out the Tardis, whereas Walker pulled Chuck aside once again. Her head burrowed, sparing her mind a brief moment to capture the words that needed to be said. "There are a lot of Jumbies out there, Chuck. A lot of them … unfortunately," she laughed. Her nervous smile captivated his fragile heart. "We will probably get cornered and someone … well, one of us will fall prey to them…" He stared into her fearful eyes, anxiously adhering to her every word. "One of us is going to die out there. It might be me, Casey. I doubt the Doctor. But one of us will…" Never failing to depart from her troubled eyes, he acknowledged how deep despair had clung onto her. She appeared like a frail warrior, oscillated by her obstinately pessimistic thoughts. "I don't want that person to be you, Chuck." She gnawed her inner gums. "Not you." Avoiding eye-contact, she tried to conceal the vulnerable gleam that harnessed the indigo-tinted windows of her soul. A grin captured his face and he delicately wrapped his palm round her clenched hand, helping her unclench it. She smiled.

However, his response wiped her relaxed expression away. "I'm sorry, Sarah. But I have to. He is family."

* * *

Encumbered by the threat of suspicious solitude, quietly their muted footsteps tread through a vacant passageway that no Jumbie apparently longed to occupy. The dimming lights above shaded the corridor in a gloomy grey, leaving the eyes of the venturous group slightly blinded by unwanted darkness. Desolate papers settled among the floor, though occasional gusts of wind brushed its corners into the air, where it dangled, appearing to battle with an invisible enemy. As the breeze passed, the victorious paper nestled once again among the dusty, cold ground. This deserted passageway captured frightened memories in its walls. With wide-flung doors, shattered windows and unmade beds, the pathway clearly elaborated on the panicked flee that recently occurred. The wounds of this evacuated hospital were fresh. Damaged medical equipment clung to the sides. Its beaten and ruptured limbs lay beside it. It was as if mentally deranged patients were caged in this infirmary and now had broken free from their imaginary chains.

The Doctor's fingers cupped round an open doorway, peeping his head through. Room C2. Lifeless hands spread out across the floor. Half of the deceased's body lay hidden behind a hospital bed. Blood darkened the corpse's pale palms, appearing to ooze from his fingernails. His hospital gown merely covered his body, its ripped fabric revealing the gnawed, shredded figure beneath. "Rest in peace," the Time Lord announced. His voice was as faint as a whisper.

As if the Doctor emitted a vigorous gravitational pull, his bodyguards – Walker and Casey – stayed close beside him. With fingers, tightly wrapped round their weapons, they weren't hesitant to pull the trigger, for the temptation to fire at an undesirable moving target intensified like an irksome itch.

Footsteps halted. A large, steel wall towered over the skinny Time Lord. He leaned closer, pressing his palm against the monumental barrier that blocked their pathway. A blue beam was emitted from the extraction of his sonic screwdriver, and he shone his device across the corners of the steel barricade. Abruptly, it lifted, producing a clanging sound of metal clashing with metal. "Thank goodness it's not wood!" He exclaimed. Merrily, after the obstacle elevated and cleared the lane, he continued to stroll along Ward C. The group followed on behind him, their ears being attracted to the desolate silence that occupied the ward. Captured by a daunting chill of peculiarity, the hospital seemed strangely void of predators. A splintered ligneous door lay decrepit, depending solely on the hinges of the evading nails that were bound to the contiguous wall to thwart its collapse. A slice of shattered glass cracked below the Doctor's red sneaker. Blood deluged like a waterfall from the vacant, abandoned rooms they passed, discontinuing just after reach of the threshold. An icy breeze tickled their extremities and their dense exhales hung in the air like mist.

"So uh, how old were you when you discovered you wanted to be a prostitute?" Chuck asked.

Elizabeth's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, I think I always knew, you know. It has always been a dream of mine."

"Really? And your parents are fine with your endeavours?"

The group turned a corner where they were met with further vacancy.

"Yes. Quite supportive actually. I follow in my mother's footsteps. If it wasn't for prostitution I would never be born."

Chuck laughed. "So it is kind of like a family business? That's inventive. I wish my parents were as supportive as yours seem to be."

"Oh. What do you do for a living?"

"I work with computers…"

"Mm. Well I could see why they would have a problem with that. It isn't the most noble of professions."

Casey released an exasperated grunt at their tedious conversation. Sarah shot him a bemused look, rolling her eyes and then returning her focus back to the matter at hand.

"Yeah …" Chuck continued. "Now that I think about it, they never really were big fans of Bill Gates. I guess that was a sign."

"Were? Oh, are they d–"

"Can we get some silence back there?" the Doctor ordered. "Sound will attract the Jumbies." Feeling scolded, they returned their concentration towards finding Captain Awesome. The gang was met with another steel door that barred them from passing through. "Ah, again? Come on now." Once more, his sonic screwdriver removed the obstruction.

"I wonder what's with all the metal barriers. Everywhere we turn these big steel walls seem to block our path," Sarah observed with frustrated intrigue.

"It's quarantine," Ellie remarked.

A quiver caught Shane's throat. "What?"

"It appears the hospital underwent quarantine. If there is threat of a virus spreading, the hospital bolts all pathways preventing anyone from leaving. Or entering."

"Why would they do that?"

"Well if there is fear of a new epidemic. She just said that, weren't you listening?" The Doctor taunted. "Well it would explain why the hospital appears so deserted. Seems a bit odd. There are definitely Jumbies in this hospital, just can't seem to find them."

Elizabeth simpered. "Sounds as if you wish we would."

Chuck's sweat-drenched palms shot out before him. "Wait. What if Devon is behind one of these doors? Won't it be impossible to reach him?"

"Well no. No. Not if you have a sonic screwdriver like I do. But that's not the problem."

"What is then?" Casey questioned.

An inspecting gaze captured the Time Lord. "Devon is definitely stuck behind one of these doors. The only problem is what if the Jumbies are stuck with him… Eleanor, where is the Quarantine control centre?"

"Uh, the second floor."

"Ward B? Is that ward B?" She nodded. "In which direction are the stairs?"

"Well forward and one turn to your right, but–" his thin figure dashed ahead, "you can't get there. The stairs will be blocked remember?" Her voice trailed. His gangly legs and back faced her, sprinting on.

Acquiring a sonic device such as the Doctor's made their search for Devon seem less strenuous. He unbolted the steel barrier separating the wards from the stairs, reached the Quarantine control centre and, with screwdriver in hand, unlocked the security system, allowing him access to fiddle with the buttons and levers that operated the hospital building.

The rest of the gang reached him. The main room of ward B seemed more rampaged than the previous level. Documents stacked the floor and empty hospital beds lay displaced randomly throughout the passageway. A broken telephone dangled in the air, occasionally banging against the control centre desk where its stretched wire had been flung over. A brighter light shone overhead, its bulbs not near expiration date and a deserted wheelchair fell toppled over, as though its occupier had miraculously begun to feel a tingle in their legs.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Chuck freaked, his frenzied body charging down the stairs towards the crazed Time Lord.

"I'm integrating the sections of this hospital," he replied.

"Okay dude, I can see you're kind of a control freak, taking lead here," Shane blurted, his voice drenched in frantic fear. "But if you open up all these bolted walls, you could unleash those Jumbie creatures upon us. We might just get cornered."

"Shane is right," Sarah stated. "We don't know where the herd is. We don't know if that is the only one."

"And we don't know where Eleanor's fiancé is either!" the Time Lord bellowed. "There might be more than one victim out there. And I'm not willing to pass on the possibility of saving them."

Elizabeth's face snarled. "You can't save everyone!"

He glared at her with brazen eyes. "Hm. And what if we said that about you?" She drew back in disdain. "There are people stuck in here begging to be saved. What if you were one of them?" Consumed with indomitable rage he slammed his fist on a large red button, resulting in a screeching monotonous blare to roar through the corridors. "Oh yes! We are coming for you."

Sarah's eyes bolted with fury. "Are you _insane_?"

"Perhaps. I have been called that on more than one occasion. In French it's pronounced 'fou'. My favourite though is Swahili: 'Mwendawazimu', because anyone willing to say that out loud is most definitely insane."

"If there are any Jumbies hiding in this hospital then that noise has now alerted them towards us."

"Oh, come on now. They don't know where we are. That noise is blasting throughout the entire hospital."

She clenched her fists. "Why do you have to be so _intolerable_?"

He stared at her with a daring look of warranted authority. "Do you want to save Chuck's soon to be brother-in-law or not?" Her silent lips provided the answer.

* * *

Strolling along ward B, the presence of Jumbies appeared a lot more frequent now that closed doors had been opened – or rather, lifted. Passing room B6 the team witnessed a food-craved cannibal feed his appetite on a defenceless doctor. Her stethoscope lay clasped in her scrunched fist, as her short, blonde curls – soaked in her own blood – spread out across the floor. The Jumbie raised his blood-smeared face to the team that stood in the doorway watching his gruesome – albeit, lonesome – feast. Clearly the remaining carcass of his prior meal hadn't furnished his growling gut and he retreated from her mangled remains, toppling over her sprawled, disfigured body as he limped towards them. Casey fired a bullet through his eye, hurling his head back; knocking him off his feet and resulting in his soaring body to collapse on top of his lunch.

As they sprinted throughout the corridor, searching through each room for Ellie's fiancé, impatience started to prickle up their spines.

Two Jumbies exited room B15. Sarah and Casey blasted bullets through their skulls. "That doesn't kill them."

"I know."

They turned a corner. Four Jumbies hurled their arms in front of them, diminishing the proximity between them and the gang. Their lurched fingers frantically snatched at the air as though each individual extremity had a mind of its own. Again, the two equipped spies fired their enemies down. "You ever going to use that thing?" Casey nudged Shane.

"Got to get the hang of it, you know…" he gulped.

The group reached room B23. A decapitated Jumbie lay squirming, her head sliced from the rest of her figure. Full of whet, she grinded her razor sharp teeth against the floor which her body faced. "Come on, Shane. This one's not a threat," Casey scoffed. "Try firing your gun."

"There is no time for torture. Let's find Devon," the Doctor ordered.

Their dashing forms turned round another corner. Although the passageways were no longer vacant, they still seemed spared from a massive herd of man-eaters. Sarah's sneakers screeched. "Everyone stop. Can you hear that?" Elizabeth's eyes darted across the room, trying to pay heed to the inaudible sound her ears weren't equipped to hearing.

Casey clutched his weapon tighter. "What is it, Walker?"

"It's … Jumbies."

The Doctor nodded. "Lots of them."

Panic struck Ellie's frantic heart. "What – I … I can't hear anything. Where is the sound coming from?"

Sharing a look of determination, Sarah and the Time Lord raced in the direction of the perilous grumble. Eventually, their sprinting figures reached a dead end. The group trailed close behind them. A large, bolted door stood before them. Wooden planks were nailed into the barrier and the grazed wood appeared clawed, as though a rabid animal had tried to scratch away its exterior. Unbreakable chains anchored the door shut, inhibiting anything from passing through. Carcasses of cadaveric Jumbies formed a pile against the bolted barrier, barring it from unlocking. Above the bolted entry, a blood-spattered sign with the words EAST HALL clung to the wall. The sound of a persistent hammer banging against the door escaped through, following a constant yelping cry. The despaired male's voice squealed, like an innocent child frightened their parent had left them behind. "Someone is trapped inside," the Doctor exclaimed.

"Not only someone. A horde of Jumbies too."

"We have to help him," Chuck insisted.

"Uh, no … no, we don't have to do anything," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Don't you understand?" howled the Doctor. "If that was _you_ in there, wouldn't you want us to save you?"

"I think we should acknowledge the Jumbies' presence with him behind that door. He's probably already been bit. Most definitely scratched. There is no hope for him now," Casey pronounced.

"Hey – hey, wait. You are fine if you are just scratched right?" Shane freaked. "Like, that won't turn you or anything will it?"

Sarah swallowed, lowering her gaze to the floor. Luring mistrust in his eyes, Casey released a snicker, though he remained curious as to Shane's panicked query.

"No. You can just as easily turn with a scratch as you can a bite." Capturing a scornful expression, the Time Lord held his imperious stare on the blonde female spy. "A single scratch is all it takes. No matter the size." Secreted from his forehead, sweat cascaded down Shane's face as fear sucked the colour from his cheeks. "Now let's focus on getting this door open."

"Stop! I wouldn't do that," a deep-throated voice trailed. All heads sprung round. A tall, attractive blonde chap stood behind them, his blue scrubs stained with the colour of gore. The name DEVON WOODCOMB was stitched into his tattered white lab coat. Only the garment hadn't maintained its angelic, creamy colour, but rather been painted with shades of russet and neon red.

Witnessing the familiar face before her, Eleanor was consumed in a bubble of staggered bewilderment. "Devon?"

His delicate, freaked eyes broadened with shock. "Ellie?" She rushed towards him, violently wrapping her arms around his muscular physique. He pressed his palm against her back, her hair entangling in his fingers. Water blinded his eyes. She sobbed, repeatedly exclaiming "thank God" into his ear. Cupping her hands round the back of his neck, she kissed him tenderly, allowing relief to overwhelm her wholly. "You're alive," she grinned. "Thank God. Oh my God, you are all right!"

Tersely, a loud bang startled their ears. Blood splattered across the back of Devon's coat. A hefty figure knocked against his legs as a fallen Jumbie collapsed onto the floor. Their expressions lunged towards the shooter. Devon's gobsmacked eyes fell upon Casey's raised pistol. "You're kinda handy with a gun there, bro."

"Yeah … perhaps we should explain," Bartowski stated.

"There is time for explanations later, Chuck," the impatient Time Lord exclaimed. "Devon, why is there a man screaming for help behind this door?"

"Doctor Ramirez. He locked himself inside to lure those turned rabid. Sacrificed his life, man."

"Is there any way we can save him?" the Doctor continued.

"I–" Ramirez's screaming voice disappeared with a final shrill cry. The only remaining sound echoing through the bolted door was the grumbling groans of the Jumbies.

"Well … it's a little late now, isn't it?" Elizabeth quipped. The Doctor's fiery eyes shot daggers in her direction. She retreated with caution.

"Babe, who are these people?" asked Awesome.

"That's Shane; Elizabeth, the prostitute," Chuck named, "and the dude with the spiky hair is the Doctor."

Woodcomb grinned. "Sweet, bro. I'm also a Doctor. Though, I'm more of a heart guy."

"That's great. I have two." Devon knit his brows. "Now let's get back to the Tardis."

"What's a Tardis?"

"His spaceship," Ellie noted.

Everyone ignored Woodcomb's bewildered expression and charged in the direction that they came from. "Wait – guys! Where is this thing?"

"Ward C. Upper level."

"You guys have got to be mad." Their speedy feet halted. Ellie's eyebrows rose with sudden realisation.

"Why? What is it?" Sarah fretted.

"No, Devon's right," Eleanor remarked. "You see this bordered door."

Chuck nodded. "The one where all the cannibals are kept, sure…"

"Read the sign above. 'East Hall'."

Casey squint his eyes. "I don't get it."

"East Hall follows the stairway to ward C," Devon continued. "Now that some dude removed the Quarantine on this place, ward C is left wide open. You'd be eaten alive if you ventured there."

Tantalising terror pulsated through their veins. The steady pumping of their brittle hearts soon beat with greater potency; with greater speed. The Doctor stood frozen in position. Their only safe escape had lost its security, now becoming the most perilous path to travel. All eyes fell on the omnipotent Time Lord, anxious for him to inform them of their next plan of action, imploring it wouldn't cost them their lives. He acknowledged their desperate stares and panted profusely. Uncertainty cultivated within him. "I'm not fleeing from my Tardis," he thundered. "If anyone wants to travel a different route, be my guest."

* * *

BACK TO THE PRESENT

* * *

Steady footsteps followed the shadow of a robust spy, who halted in the entrance room of the Tardis. Sarah's seated body had leaned itself against one of the tree-like branches that eluded from the Tardis' walls. Her wrists nestled upon her bent knees as she stared blankly forward, her eyes deprived of hope. His shadow loomed over her, though she failed to acknowledge his presence. Her mind had fallen deep into the well of her thoughts, resulting in her lack of perceptibility to her external environment. He rested his arm against the circular 'steering wheel' in the centre of the room, which beamed a continual blue light. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She responded with cold, defensive intention.

He grunted, sensing the fiction in her reply. "Humph. Well, I don't think you need the lecture on how emotions are a liability for us spies," he explained. She lacked a retort. "You lose focus, your enemy gains leverage and you become weak. Often your life ends up paying the price."

Her despondent eyes stared expressionlessly forward. "I know."

He seated his body beside hers, straightening his leg across the floor. "I once had a fiancé." Gently, a surprised smile captured her lips. "Yeah, something you didn't know about me," he snorted. "It was a long time ago. I was just a scrawny kid. Kathleen was the love of my life. But in order for me to be a spy and protect our country, I had to give up that life. And although I believe that was the right decision for me, it was still hard to accept I would lose her forever." Sarah gulped. The thought struck a piercing chord within her. "For a while afterwards, I felt regret. One could even say bitter. At myself. Scared I had made the wrong choice. But the loss of someone you love often makes you a better, stronger person. Eventually all the angst you felt inside disappears and you start to cherish the only thing you have left of them – the memories you shared." She raised her eye line, though still failed to share eye-contact. "You see, Walker, often having someone special doesn't jeopardise your competence. Often it enhances it. Even if you end up losing that person in the process. The loss of Kathleen showed me there was something worth fighting for, something worth protecting."

He retreated from his seat, seemingly about to depart. His eyes fell upon hers, viewing the contemplative expression that smeared her face. "Just because emotions are a liability, Walker, doesn't mean we don't have them. Or that we should hide them." After a shared moment of understanding, he left her alone and ventured towards the medical room where everyone else resided. Staring upon his departing back, a minute quiver seized her lower lip as a tender tear trickled down from her eyelid. Brusquely, her finger swiped the tear away and she shut her eyes with zest.

* * *

"How is she?" the Doctor asked, witnessing Casey return to the medical room. Ellie's head settled upon Devon's lap, her eyes resting from exhaustion. Both Awesome and her cheeks were raw, stained by the tears they shed. The Doctor sat across the room from them, their bodies separated by the medical bed where Chuck's motionless figure lay.

"Mph. Keeping it inside. She'd prefer to be alone I suppose."

"I think we all would," Devon remarked. "Lost a lot of friends and family today thanks to that virus. Would be nice to have a break from the grief."

"Chuck was not meant to die today," the Doctor muttered. "The Jumbies presence on Earth must have changed so much of the destined future. Now fixed points in time have altered. Like Chuck's death. It just doesn't make any sense. Not yet at least." Devon started to titter. "What? What is funny?"

"No I … I just keep forgetting you are not from Earth, bro; that those rabid humans out there are hybrid aliens. That Casey and Sarah are spies! That Chuck … it's just … it's all too much to absorb in one day."

The Time Lord lowered his head, analysing the scenario. His mind attempted to fit the pieces into the puzzle. "We can't hide here forever," Casey stated.

"We won't," the Doctor announced. "We just need answers."

Abruptly, the song _Don't Stop Believing_ blared from Chuck's pants pocket. All eyes focussed on him. The loud unanticipated blast awakened Ellie, and she jolted her eyes open in recognition of the familiar tune. "That's Chuck's phone," Devon exclaimed.

The Doctor removed it from his pants pocket. On the screen, the words ONE NEW MESSAGE appeared. The Time Lord opened it:

IT MORG STK CRWLN THRU VESTS – JAIL? ZMBIS CLSE DONO WRE AM HLP!

**"**What is this language?" the Doctor cried.

"Who is it?" Ellie shrieked.

"'It Morg stk'. Morg? Know anyone named Morg?"

Casey grunted. "Humph. Yeah. Bartowski's bearded friend, Morgan Grimes."

"Oh my word, Morgan. Where is he? Do you know?" Ellie responded.

"Yeah. Secured him in Castle." She scrunched her eyes in confusion. "…Our secret spy base. Seems like we forgot about him."

"He says he is 'crwln thru vests.' That can't be very secure from Jumbies," the Doctor jested. "Vests aren't big enough to hide the whole human body."

Casey knit his brows. "Let me see that." He inspected the message.

"Vests … Maybe he is hiding in some clothes store?" Devon suggested.

"No. Vests," Eleanor exclaimed. "He means vents. Must be a spelling error."

"Well we have to go save him!" her fiancé interjected.

"Castle is flooded. It will be impossible to reach him."

Determination lured in the Doctor's eyes. "Then we need a plan of strategy. We need to clear Castle as well. Ellie and Devon, you will stay inside the Tardis. Cannot risk your lives."

Awesome's heart rapidly pattered. "Wait, are you guys sure about this? Going out there, we could lose another."

"It's Chuck's best friend." Sarah's voice trailed from the doorway. Startled, all faced her direction. Her eyes remained glued to the immobile body that lay on the medical bed. "It's what he would have wanted."

"You sure you're fine to go out there? If your judgement is clouded you could get bit, Walker."

She shrugged with impassive eyes. "I don't care."

* * *

A constant whimper echoed through the air ducts of Castle. Morgan clenched his fists and used his arms to propel him forward, lugging his body along the vents. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die," he muttered. "No man with a full grown beard should ever have to go through this! Chuck Norris would never be placed in this kind of predicament." The sound of the Jumbies diminished as Morgan augmented the proximity between them. None had successfully climbed into the air ducts, allowing for a greater escape. He had utilised this tactic before when in the _Buy More_. He only prayed there was another secure room he could flee to.

Glancing down, he noticed a chamber full of guns below him. "Now this is more Chuck Norris." No Jumbies seemed present in the armament room and he took a chance at fate, hoping the card he played would not turn out to be a Joker.

He removed the vent door and dropped his body down, resulting in a loud thud to resonate from the room. He glanced out through the clear, shatterproof glass door, witnessing many more Jumbies pointlessly strolling through Castle. He ducked his body behind a table in the room, hoping to hide his presence from the food-craved cannibals eager to consume him.

* * *

Hordes of Jumbies straddled along the corridors of Castle. Many inundated the cells and passageway leading towards the central room of the underground base. They dragged their legs behind them, limping with no sense of direction. Shoulders brushed passed shoulders, though no fight had been instigated. Like a unified team their blood-stained bodies appeared to morph into one giant herd.

With a commanding clank, a metal wall dropped from the roof above, acting as the Berlin Wall that separated this congested Jumbie family. The startling bang caught their attention, and their crazed eyes took note of the peculiar metal wall that divided them. The entry wound into Castle had been sealed, preventing further Jumbies from venturing into the underground base. Precipitously, another metallic barrage seized their pathway, cornering them into a dead end. The Jumbies in the central room of Castle were blocked off by an additional impenetrable barrier, diminishing the quantity of Jumbies that besieged the central room. Now, with less space to dawdle, the blocked-off corridors were jam-packed with these infected humans.

Their nostrils flared, catching whiff of edible, juicy meat. The secretion of saliva accreted. The starved crowd hungrily shuffled towards the direction of the scent. Fresh meat dangled from a rope through the vents of each of the jail cells in Castle, luring the mass of Jumbies towards each chamber and draining the bevy from the corridors. Hurriedly, the cells crammed till there was no space left for another being to fit inside. The rope soon fell from the vents, dropping the portion of meat onto the floor where the Jumbies crowded around, stretching their fingers, trying to grab hold of the desired meal. With rapid haste, the shatterproof doors of the jail cells shut closed, securing the Jumbies inside.

From each closed off segment of Castle's corridors, a fiery explosion fired like a ripple effect, burning all Jumbies caged between. The eruption blast through each jail cell, scorching their flesh as it shrivelled into ash. Besides for singe marks, the metal walls were left unaffected.

The distinctive sound of the infamous Tardis amplified. The blue police box concreted, making its unexpected appearance in the central room of Castle. Casey and Sarah burst through its doors with guns in hand. The remaining Jumbies in the central room smelt their flesh and wobbled towards them with their claws stretched out. Walker and Casey fired continual bullets through their brains, blasting all the Jumbies to the ground, where their heads collapsed in the pools of their own blood. With aggravation, the two spies extracted the knives tucked below their shirts. They neared their fallen enemies and speared the brain stem of each of the transformed cannibals that lay beaten on the floor.

Morgan's startled face dashed out the armament room carrying a rifle in his hands. He pointed it at the defunct Jumbies that lay flooded by their own blood. "Yeah, take that you mad hatters!" he screamed. The eyes of the dominant, chilling spies fell on him. Disgruntled, Casey heaved his rifle from Morgan's palms. "That was really scary and super cool!" Grimes continued. "Sarah, where'd you learn how to use a gun?" Her jaw lowered, feeling slightly conflicted in having to elaborate to him the series of events that occurred throughout the day. "And how did you guys make that police box magically appear? Did you use like an invisibility cloak? You know, I've always believed they were factual. Harry Potter is a real boy." Walker and Casey shared a glance. "And Casey what is this place? Why did you hide me here?" His fleeting queries flew by, too quick to provide them with a moment to explain. "Wait – you knew I was here. You bombed half this compartment. You were willing to bomb this place with me inside!"

"Relax, idiot," Casey groaned. "Checked the cameras. We saw you were hiding like a baby in the armoury room."

"Well you guys just saved my life. That means you got my message! Where is Chuck? I miss my buddy. I want to see that he is all right."

Sarah lowered her eyes in woe. She couldn't find the right words to explain and thus failed to respond. The Doctor's red sneakers appeared from the Tardis' entrance. He leaned his back against the doorway. "Hello, Morgan." Grimes' head darted towards him, flabbergasted by his unannounced presence. "I'm the Doctor. I'm glad you are all right. Even though I don't approve of Sarah or Casey's methods, at least another one of our group hasn't fallen."

The bearded bloke frowned. "What do you mean?"

The Time Lord uncrossed his arms, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Come inside."

* * *

The entrance of the police box opened. The Doctor peeped through. Doleful, Sarah sat where Casey had found her before; her body leaned against an eluding steel tree branch. "We've cleared all the bodies out. Castle is officially secure. Eleanor still sleeping?"

Sarah nodded. "Uh yeah. I think the day has really worn her out."

"I believe it has worn everyone out. How did Morgan take the news?"

She smiled. "He's also sleeping…"

"Ah, I see." He knocked his teeth together. After removing his long, brown trench coat, he settled it on his coatrack.

"I am surprised you went through with Casey and my plan. The way we cleared Castle."

He grinned, burrowing his hands deep in his blue pants pockets. "I doubt you would have let me disagree. Besides, the Jumbies are a new race. Through the duration of a single day, they have extensively altered the course of history. Well … impressive, but intolerable. Perhaps they are meant to be stopped. It's just sad to see humans having to pay the price." Delicately, she stroked the back of her neck, unknotting her tensed muscles. He settled beside her, resting his hands against the cold floor before he also inclined his body against the steel branch. He extended his legs forward to maintain a more comfortable position.

She glanced down. Her eyes bulged in sight of his hand. "Oh my God. You've been scratched!"

He lifted his wrist. "Oh right. I believe I have." Her gobsmacked eyes glared at him in baffled shock. His complacent response prompted the dropping of her jaw. "Oh relax. This is nothing more than a scratch to me. I'm a Time Lord remember. We don't get infected by this virus. Our bodies are immune to it."

She suspired. "Well that's fortunate."

"I guess not all of us have been so lucky…" Nervous, her fingers caressed her neck once more. He acknowledged the action. "So why haven't you turned?" he asked transparently, once again burying his hands in his pockets. The stroking of her neck halted. Her fearful eyes stared forward omitting any form of eye contact. She gulped with anxiety. "Shane turned within minutes. With you, it's been hours. And still, here you are. Human. I can't quite explain it."

She dropped her gaze, biting her inner gums. "You know about the scratch…"

"Well your hair hides it successfully. Not _that_ successfully, but no one else seems to have noticed."

She smiled, though caution continued to lurk in her eyes. "Are you waiting for me to turn so you can finally have the chat you've always wanted with a Jumbie?"

He laughed. "That'll be ironic. You've been stopping my chances to all day."

She clenched her jaw. "I suppose Casey will shoot me before you have a chance to."

"No one is going to pull the trigger on you, Sarah."

Her eyebrow raised in disagreement. "You might have to."

"No. Violence is always the last resort."

She chuckled amusedly. "And a reasonable conversation is the first, I'm assuming?"

"Ah! So she does listen."

A grin spread across her cheeks. "Well if you are planning on putting me through that torture, you might as well shoot me now."

His eyes stared forward, sunken deep in his thoughts. Overwhelmed with maladroit emotions, she glanced away. Gradually, his smile departed. "How'd it happen?"

She gulped, consistently wringing her hands. "A young boy, uh, he'd been infected … For some reason I just," an abashed smile daunted her face, "couldn't shoot him. And when it came to the point that I had to or be infected myself, I … missed." She dropped her lamenting gaze. "He was just an innocent. Until I realised that he wasn't anymore. But I guess by that time it was already too late."

The awkward air remained condense between them. "It's not just the scratch, Walker. My psychic paper was blank to you. And when no one else could hear the Jumbies except for me, you could too. You're infected, but yet not turned. And your precision is spot on. It is almost supernatural."

Her nerves caught the better of her, and she smiled disconcertedly again. "Maybe my Jumbie instincts are finally kicking in."

"Don't deflect. Jumbies cannot do what you can do."

She bit her lower lip, praying for an adjustment to the conversation. "I keep thinking about that second shooter," she declared. "The one who shot Chuck… The hospital had been quarantined. The shooter had to have already been in the building–"

"Don't expect me now to go back in time to stop the incident from occurring, Sarah."

A switched on light bulb shone through her eyes. "I hadn't thought of that …"

"Oh no! No. Don't. Don't even say it. Do you know what happens when you intercept your own time loop? Two sets of yourself being in one location at the same time is _very_ risky."

"Wait–" She turned to face him, her hair gliding through the air as her head rotated, revealing to him her animated expression. "Are you saying that it is possible?"

"Oh yeah, of course it is. I'm a Time Lord. I can do anything. But I won't do this."

Her nostrils flared. "You're telling me that there is a possibility of bringing Chuck back to life, to stop the shooter from killing him and you aren't willing to even try?"

"No. Sarah, listen to me. It is dangerous. Especially with the packs of Jumbies present in the hospital. We may encounter a paradox. And if you plan on bringing a dead man back from the grave, you may cause a wound in time. If Chuck's death is a fixed point then we may encounter creatures that you do _not_ want to face. They are like bacteria. They will destroy everything on this planet to stitch that wound. You won't just be changing the probable course of history, you will be destroying life itself."

Desperation clutched hold of her. "But Chuck is not just some ordinary human being. He is far more valuable than you realise and his death should _not_ have occurred this early in his life. Not before he had everything he always wanted. Or at least not before he knew there was a chance to have it…"

"I am aware, Sarah. I know who Chuck Bartowski is. And the Intersect from the future that I remember becomes one of the most influential men of time. So believe me when I say I know how important he is. But in that future, Zombians had not infected the Earth and Jumbies had not yet existed on this planet. His death now may be a new fixed point in time and if I mess with that … who knows what damage could come from it. This may be the paving for the new future. One I have no say in altering."

Her eyebrows furrowed with fury. "Oh, so the destination for the human race is extinction? Just so aliens can conquer the Earth."

"Hey! You were the aliens on this planet first. Don't you ever forget that!"

"If Chuck was such an influential man in the future you recall then _surely_ that is enough motivation to take a chance on time!"

"No! You are not listening to me!"

"Then explain it to me. Why can't Chuck live? He deserves at least an explanation."

The Time Lord sighed with pregnant rile. "Sarah, that future–" He paused. She stared hopelessly at him, anxious for his response. "Let's just say that future isn't much better than this present. You may end up not wanting that future either."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I can't tell you."

"If that future has been changed forever then there is _no harm_ in telling me."

"You won't like what I have to say."

Her lips shut, failing to respond. Clearly it didn't matter which path she followed. The ending of both routes lacked a fairy-tale. Her eyes continued to glare into his, her heart aching to know but her mind begging for him to not provide the answers. Eventually, her irritation settled. "Well, any future where Chuck is alive is better than any future where he is dead," she gulped.

He glowered with caution. "You don't know what you are asking for, Sarah."

"If we go back in time, we can stop the shooter. Chuck will still be alive. That is what I am asking for. That is all I am asking for."

"That could change everything."

Ire simmered in her stew of rage. "Well I _want_ everything to change! Chuck is dead and it was _my_ job to protect him. Now it is _my_ fault he is no longer here. Therefore, it is my responsibility to bring him back."

"You don't know the Intersect's future and you are not aware of your involvement in it. I will not reveal much, but what I will say is that you either get a chance to grieve now or you will be grieving later. Either way, the story does not end in 'happily ever after'."

She clenched her jaw. Mixed emotions clouded her disconsolate spirit. "At least later we will have a story to tell."

Frustrated, he scratched his head, aggressively contemplating his decision. "And what if you turn? Do you want Chuck to mourn you like you are grieving now? And even worse – it'll be even worse because technically you would still be alive, just not human."

Her eyebrows rose. She laughed at his ignorance. "But Chuck will be alive. Can't you see that is all that matters?"

Her despairing stare slowly melted his determined stance. He knew the negative consequences – of both paths. But he also knew where Sarah and Chuck would stand in the future. And the Sarah now would be heartbroken at the outcome.

Interrupting the Doctor's concentration, Devon appeared from the passageway of the Tardis. "Sarah." Her eyes fell on him, still capturing desperation. "Ellie wants a word."

She sighed with discouragement and retreated from her seat. "This isn't over," she whispered to him, and departed.

Keeping a steady eye on her, he hurriedly darted towards the circular control centre of his spaceship. A small screen switched on. The words DNA ANALYSIS IN PROCESS appeared on the monitor. "Come on. Come on!" He glanced at the entrance of the passageway, ensuring Walker hadn't returned. The words flickered on and off, showing that the DNA analysis hadn't yet completed. "Hurry. You have been 'in process' for hours now. Tell me what she is…" Silence started to linger. He repeatedly tapped his red sneaker against the Tardis floor, anxious to receive the computer's result.

'DNA ANALYSIS COMPLETE' the computer announced, its female voice emotionless and electronic. The Doctor's eyes bulged. "Shh! Shh!" He propped his head round, glancing at the vacant passageway. No one seemed to hear.

With an extensive grin planted across his face, he pressed a large, blue button. The words on the monitor quickly departed, being replaced with other words.

Slowly, the Doctor's eyes protruded. His jaw dropped with shock. His eyebrows furrowed. "No … no … that is impossible. That can't be." He slammed his palm against the screen. "This has to be an error." He started the process again. This time, having already obtained the result, the answer filled the monitor immediately. Gobsmacked, he stared analytically at the incredulous words that pumped his hearts with zest. "Oh my mind, this all makes sense though. Yes! This explains everything. Ah! Why didn't I think of this sooner? The psychic paper, the perfect precision, the high-ranged hearing, the fact that she hasn't turned … Half of her is me."


End file.
